by Ines Johnson
Khial reached for the handle and got out of the car, sure that the girl would follow.
"We were so worried about you when we heard you'd gone into the Wasted Lands." Bil's voice dripped with false sincerity. Bil was flanked by his mate, Mikel, and their wife, Syndra. Bil and Mikel wore shirts from two seasons ago, while Syndra was dressed in today's finery.
"We thought you might not come back," Mikel's tone was laced with disappointment.
Khial saw the gleam of china sticking out of Mikel's bag. He saw Dain's eyes flick to the bag as well, but he said nothing. Dain turned a deferring smile on the older man.
"Thank you all, for your concern," Dain said. "Khial and I were just..." Dain hesitated, eyes glancing askew at the car and the figure still inside. "We were just curious to see the Wastelands. I'm sorry we worried you."
"Nonsense," Syndra came forward and placed a hand on Dain's shoulder.
Khial shuddered, and thought of the bath where he would scrub the poisonous mark from his lover's person.
Syndra continued, "There's no need to hide it any longer, Dain."
Dain stiffened under her touch.
"We know exactly what you were doing out there," Syndra said. Her hands paying undue attention to Dain's bicep. "We think you should turn over every stone in search of a cure."
"My wife is right, nephew," said Bil. "The thought of losing you is..." Bil put a hand to his chest.
All three, Bil, Syndra and Mikel, sighed. The sigh was not sad, it was full of anticipation. Bil was Dain's only living relative. When Dain passed on, Bil stood to inherit all Dain's wealth, as Dain's mother's only other living relative.
Just the thought kicked Khial in the gut: when Dain passed. It was the thing that kept Khial up at night. The thing that sent him into the Wastelands on a fool's journey. A fool to be sure, because he would do anything for Dain.
Dain was sick, and modern herbs and medicinals were having no effect. Khial had dragged Dain out to the Wastelands in search of outlawed chemical remedies of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. But they'd come back empty handed. And the three grubbing bastards knew it. Khial clenched his fist. His body coiled, seeking release.
Just then, the car door opened and shut.
Bil, Syndra and Mikel visibly recoiled.
"What in the name of the Goddess is that?"
"I think it’s a... girl."
Khial turned in time to see Chanyn shrink back just a bit. She ran one self-conscious hand over her disheveled hair, the other over her travel-worn dress. He saw nothing of the strong woman who'd fired between the eyes of a boar and then gutted it. Nothing of the woman who'd survived nearly two decades in the wild with only her cunning. Under the beady eyes of Bil, Syndra, and Mikel, she shrank down small.
Dain made a move toward Chanyn, but Khial beat him to her. He took a firm hold of the girl's elbow and guided her forward.
"This is Lady Chanyn," he presented her formally, as though they were in the courts of her novels. "She's come to stay with us."
Chanyn faltered a step as he led her forward, but Khial didn't miss a beat as he adeptly changed his plans. His hands clenched around her arm and brushed her shapely waist. Even through the layers of fabric, her flesh felt hot beneath his fingers.
Six fuming eyes turned to Dain. The bag of priceless china crashed down to the ground.
"You can't mean to..." stuttered Bil.
"But she's positively wild." Mikel took a step towards Chanyn. His path was immediately obstructed by Dain.
"A man who insults a lady, is no man at all."
Mikel recoiled as though Dain slapped him. Khial's fingers itched to do so. Though the law expressly forbade any man to harm a woman in any way, there was leeway when it came to harming another man. The consequences looked pretty good to Khial, at the moment.
"I bid you all goodnight and a safe journey back to your home." Their home was a one-story house they could barely afford. Syndra had expensive tastes, and no skills or political clout. Dain dismissed them and led Khial and Chanyn into his house.
"Who were those people?" Chanyn asked as Dain closed the door behind them.
Dain looked shamefaced when he answered. "My uncle, his mate, and their wife."
Dain walked over and once more took Chanyn by the hand. Khial's hands felt empty as he released her warm flesh.
"They are poor and rely on my generosity," Dain continued.
"It looked like they were stealing," Chanyn observed. "And they didn't appear to appreciate your generosity very much."
In spite of himself, Khial liked the indignation in Chanyn's voice. He could see that Dain liked it too, as he grinned down at her.
"Come, let's get you out of these travel clothes and into a bath. When you're done, last meal will be ready and waiting for you."
Khial groaned inwardly. There went his plans for the evening.
Dain walked Chanyn up the steps, where the household staff immediately enveloped her. The male staff of the house hadn't had a lady to care for since Dain's mother died. When Chanyn had been led away, with pampering instructions that the manservants took without question, Khial went over to Dain.
"She will be set upon by more of them," Khial said. Not just Dain's family, but her own, once they learned of her presence.
"And we will be there to protect her."
Khial scoffed. Tired, hungry, and horny, he finally opened his mouth to launch a formal protest.
"Take heed, Khial. We need her. She is our salvation."
Dain didn't stop to listen to the tirade that had built up inside of Khial. He went off down the hallway towards his office and disappeared around a corner. Khial watched him go with anxiety creeping up his spine.
He'd never been anxious in Dain’s house. Never feared what might lie in wait behind a door or in a corner. After his fathers' murders, Dain had been Khial's salvation. After Dain's own parents were killed, he'd turned to Khial.
It chaffed now, that Dain sought salvation outside Khial's arms. It left a bitter taste in Khial's mouth that that salvation was in the form of a woman.
Chapter Five
Chanyn peaked into the mirror, and a stranger gaped back at her. The stranger had the same dark hair, but hers was full of lustrous black shadows and deep brown highlights. The skin coloring was similar, but the stranger's glowed healthily; kissed by the sun instead of being burnt. The lips, full of awe, were a deep red and no longer cracked. Eyes, the same shifting liquid gold and brown, watched as those lips spread into a delighted smile at the reflection.
"Do you like, my lady?"
Three males stood behind her. Last night, Clent drew her a bath of the most sweet smelling scents. Then the large manservant, who resembled one of the wrestlers of Chanyn's sports books, led her to the softest, largest bed she'd ever seen. Chanyn climbed on board and fell asleep at once. Meaning only to nap before dinner, Chanyn missed the entire affair, awakening an hour ago when Tem roused her.
Tem, thin and wiry with large eyes like an owl, brought her to the sitting room adjoining her quarters, and tackled her hair. He painstakingly brushed each kink out, never once pulling or yanking. Hurting a woman in any way was grounds for imprisonment.
And finally, Rianald, a shorter man with a slight pudge to his belly, dressed her in the most exquisite gown she'd ever seen. It was Rianald who asked for her approval.
The green material skated over her shoulders, drawing down into a V to highlight her full breasts. The wiring in the bodice supported and lifted her breasts. The material flared over her hips and backside before falling to the floor. High slits at each side revealed both her legs.
"The female form is living art," Rianald told her. "Art is meant to be displayed and enjoyed, not hidden and ignored."
Chanyn was definitely on display. She felt like a piece of art, the way the three man gazed at her. There was not a single leer in any of their eyes. They looked at her with a sense of pride in their work, mixed with reverence at her gender. Chanyn stood
straighter, chin tilted higher.
"Do you think Dain will like it?" she asked.
Tem and Clent exchanged a glance, both of their lips lifted in smug grins.
"All men will fall at your feet, Lady Chanyn," Rianald answered.
Chanyn learned from the male servants that all females were given the title of Lady.
"In truth, my lady, we don't know what Lord Dain prefers in a female," said Tem.
Clent dabbed at Chanyn's cheek with a small brush. "He's never courted a lady in all the time that I've been here. And I've been here since before his mother's passing."
Chanyn's face fell. "So, he doesn't like women."
Clent paused in his brushing, brows drawn in. "Every man worships women. They are sacred."
"That's not what I mean," said Chanyn.
Now, Tem and Rianald mirrored Clent's look of incomprehension.
"I mean... well..." Chanyn decided to just come out with it. "He's gay. Isn't he?"
The men took their glances off Chanyn and looked at each other to see if one of them understood this strange, wild creature who remained an uncultured, ignorant thing, even after they painted over her rough canvas.
"Dain and Khial... they're... together." She felt her face heating.
"Right," Tem nodded, appearing glad they were speaking the same language again. "Lord Dain and Lord Khial are a bonded pair."
"So, maybe they aren't interested in having a female?"
The three men laughed at that.
"Every male pair bond, every individual man, dreams of having a woman," said Rianald.
Tem and Clent nodded.
"It’s a dream that most men will never attain," Rianald continued.
"Especially thirds," said Tem.
"Thirds?" Chanyn asked.
"Third sons," Rianald answered. "Female births are rare since the Great Destruction. The majority of women have sons. First sons are first in line for female partners. Second sons rarely bond with a female. They typically go into trade, in service of women. And third sons..." Rianald shrugged and let the sentence trail off.
"Lord Dain and Lord Khial are first sons," said Clent.
First sons. So, that meant they were in line for a female.
Tem adjusted a fold in Chanyn's dress. "Lord Dain is very wealthy—"
"Very wealthy," Clent emphasized.
"And Lord Khial is very high born—"
"Very high born."
But then, "Why haven't they married a woman?" asked Chanyn.
Tem drew in a breath, but then abruptly shut his mouth.
Clent scrunched up his nose as though the words were having a struggle in his head. None came out.
Rianald looked at Chanyn, testing the weight of his words. "They've both had some family... difficulties that some women might find... hard to contend with."
The hair on the nape of Chanyn's neck perked up from its carefully brushed place. "What kind of family difficulties?"
Tem and Clent exchanged another look. She'd seen Dain and Khial do the same during the drive into the city. That look, Chanyn was coming to understand, belonged to a long mated couple.
Rianald didn't flinch from Chanyn's questioning eyes. His face softened into a smile. That smile let Chanyn know that whatever the "difficulties" experienced by Dain and Khial, all three menservants stood loyal behind their employers.
"That is information that you should hear from your bondmates," Rianald said.
Chanyn's heart sped up at the renewed idea of being a part of Dain and Khial's bond. But she shook her head. "They haven't asked me to be a part of their bond."
Now all three men smiled a knowing smile at her reflection.
"In that dress," said Clent.
"With that hair," said Tem.
"And that body," said Clent.
"You'll be spoken for before the third meal," Rianald finished.
Chanyn wasn't so sure. She thought back to Dain as he lay in her mother's bed tracing lazy circles on Khial's back while gazing openly at her. She thought of all the easy smiles, brief touches, and easy conversations they'd had in the span of a day. She thought of last night and how he came to her defense against his horrible uncle. Then she glanced once more at her own reflection.
Chanyn stood, spine straight, shoulders back, head up. "Where do you suppose I would find Lord Dain, right now?"
Rianald directed Chanyn toward the first floor, to a door at the end of the long hallway. She wobbled as she made her way down the stairs. Chanyn had seen pictures of heeled shoes. They looked lovely in the photographs and illustrations. They made her own strong legs look elegant and long. But she was sure the wobbling wasn't attractive.
Luckily, she didn't have to walk very far, and she didn't have to run any longer. Nothing chased her here. She was barely allowed to do much for herself. The manservants fetched her drinks before she noticed being parched. They brought her food before her stomach thought to grumble. When she'd had to use the restroom she was almost surprised they didn't insist on coming in behind her.
Women, they told her, were not meant to want for anything. Chanyn decided she enjoyed being an object of worship. She almost wished she had asked Rianald to be her walking stick as she made her way down the hall. But having been independent her whole life, Chanyn was determined to master the art of walking on the twigs of her new shoes.
She made slow progress.
As she got closer, Chanyn heard the most beautiful sounds emanating from the open door. Drawn by the sounds, she picked up her pace.
On the other side of the door, Chanyn caught the profile of Khial. His eyes were closed. His scowling face relaxed and vulnerable, like when he lay in Dain's arms after they made love. In one hand he held a curved instrument, in the other, a long stick.
No, it was called a bow. And the instrument was a violin. Chanyn had seen them in books, but she'd never heard the sound. The cries of the strings pierced Chanyn's heart and she wanted alternately to weep with joy and burst into a grin.
Khial appeared similarly affected. His eyes fluttered as he made the strings quiver. His lips would part when he pulled the bow long and drew out the sound. Chanyn couldn't decide what to watch. Khial's fingers or his face.
Finally, he pulled the bow to the end of its length and off the strings. He stood still for a long moment, until the vibrations fell silent. Chanyn felt trapped, feeling that she should escape such a private moment, but unable to move. She felt she'd caught him in the act of making love.
Again.
She remembered that when she'd caught them before, Dain welcomed her perusal.
"So, that's music," she said.
Khial stiffened. She expected him to turn toward her. Instead, he turned away and began putting his instrument away.
"That was the first time I've ever heard it," Chanyn continued.
It may have been her imagination, but she thought she saw Khial's ear quirk at that admission.
"It was better than I imagined," she said. "I'd imagined it was how souls would communicate, if our souls had their own language. No words of meaning, just sounds to make you feel what they are trying to convey."
She saw Khial visibly relax. His hands stopped in the act of putting his instrument away. His head cocked to hear her.
"That's probably a silly thought," she said. "You can't write music."
"Yes, you can," Khial finally spoke.
"Really? I've never seen a language for music."
Khial set the instrument down and grabbed some papers on a stand before him. Chanyn saw black sticks and circles written on the lined papers. She'd seen something like this before on the shelves of her home, but she'd never deciphered the language, assuming it was something very ancient.
Khial turned to her with papers in hand, his face open to her for the first time. Chanyn's heart sped up. Khial was a very handsome man. His brown forehead was high, calling to regal ancestry. His brows strong. His jawline sharp and angular. His lips so sensual when relaxed and not scow
ling.
Chanyn knew she stared, but she couldn't help herself. The thought of being mated to this man, having his powerful fingers on her body, those sensual lips on hers. She felt herself moistening between her legs.
And then Khial narrowed those aristocratic brows at her and frowned.
Chanyn crossed her exposed thighs, certain he could tell what was going on down there.
"What have they done to you?"
Chanyn jerked her head up. Her hands going across her chest, and then her middle. She didn't understand. Last night she'd looked like a dead skunk. She was sure she'd embarrassed both Dain and Khial in front of their family. Now she looked like the women they were accustomed to.
"Wh-what's wrong with me?" she asked.
Khial glared at her, his face, open and vulnerable less than a moment ago, now closed and locked with a scowl. He reached behind himself and set the papers back on the stand.
"There you are."
Dain's voice came from behind Chanyn and she turned, glad to be out from under Khial's scowl. When Dain saw her, he stopped in his tracks.
Chanyn ran a self-conscious hand over her hair and then crossed her arms in front of the exposed curves of her breasts. She wanted to cross her legs as well to hide her flesh within the slits.
Dain approached her and gently unwrapped her hands, pulling them from her breasts. "You look exquisite."
Chanyn let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her face split into a wide grin.
"They've made her look like your mother," said Khial. "That's sick, Dain."
Dain looked skyward as though calling for patience. "Ignore him. You look stunning," he told Chanyn. "And my mother was a stunning woman," Dain shot over his shoulder. He pointed to a portrait on the wall. "That's her there."
"That's your mother?"
The woman in the picture was indeed stunning. With golden hair, tanned skin and a seductive smile. She looked like the pictures of the heroines on the covers of Chanyn's novels. Chanyn couldn't imagine the family "difficulties" that could befall a woman like her.
