A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  Jessa closed her eyes and Darry watched as her tears slipped free. They raced back along her temples, finding sanctuary in the darkness of her hair. Darry opened her hands and released Jessa’s wrists. “Give me leave.”

  Jessa moaned and took hold of Darry’s face as she pushed up to meet her.

  Darry thrust against her as she pulled from their kiss, her lips finding Jessa’s breast instead. Darry opened her mouth, her bite somewhat sharp before she smoothed the skin with her tongue and kissed it with her lips. Jessa moved beneath her, her breathing filled with excitement, her passion unrestrained as her fingers clawed at Darry’s shoulders. Darry felt her own release rise and she let it, her hips pushing as she grabbed and pulled Jessa’s left leg higher. Jessa cried out as Darry spent her spirit, the muscles of Darry’s legs and buttocks pushing and stretching. The pleasure flowed through her sex, through her legs, through her whole body in such a wild rush that her blood changed beneath it.

  There was a crack of sound and a flood of witchlight raced away from Jessa’s body in a surge of power, rolling through the grove and shattering outward in a swell of intense golden light. The birch trees swayed as the growl left Darry’s throat in a sharp burst, and she dragged her face between Jessa’s breasts, biting and tasting, finding the hard and yet tender nipple of Jessa’s left breast.

  Jessa spoke in a raw, broken voice as Darry tasted her way down her lover’s body, leaving her mark wherever it pleased her to do so. The words she spoke were unknown to Darry, but the sentiment was not.

  When her mouth claimed the aroused, heated flesh of Jessa’s sex, Darry finally understood her place in the Great Loom, and she bound their threads together as tightly as she knew how. She tasted of Jessa’s spirit and kissed her sex, sucking the tenderness in her mouth. Her tongue craved her lover’s flavor, and she savored deeply of her want with a fierceness that was the very essence of her wild heart. Jessa’s body writhed beneath her touch, bathed in moonlight, as she cried out, the primal sounds Jessa made in the warm air of the grove an erotic prayer as unique as she was, free and pure. The sheen of exertion and pleasure upon the fullness of Jessa’s breasts, her nipples raised and her back arched as she came with a wanton shout of pleasure, her offering of life to her gods.

  Darry stripped her clothes and slipped between her lover’s legs. Jessa moaned as she grabbed her and pulled her close, the scent and taste of Jessa’s body sending Darry’s passion into a renewed fever. Darry moved against her, their spirit mingling as Darry’s lower body rolled in quick thrusts of need. Darry felt the warmth of Jessa’s witchlight pass through her body once again, and it expanded outward as Jessa’s legs wrapped about her thighs and tangled her up, her hands grasping at Darry’s neck and hair as she pulled Darry’s tongue into her mouth.

  Chapter Ten

  Jessa’s gaze wandered through the trees as the runes moved smoothly in her thoughts, filled with persuasion.

  She rode upon Vhaelin Star, wrapped in the sacred hide that the totem of her gods had gifted to her. It engulfed her body with room to spare, the hide tanned by her gods and laced with immeasurable power. Upon the soft underside, against her body, the runes had been burned upon the plush leather. They sang and whispered against her bones with a music she had never heard before, for they were the runes from Hinsa’s portal.

  Darry clicked her tongue softly as she walked beside Vhaelin Star along the path that would take them home, the filly as charmed by Darry’s presence as she had always been.

  Jessa looked at Darry’s hair and tried to rein in the pull of her own majik, each strand of her lover’s hair, each frayed braid amongst the rest calling out for Jessa to touch. The lacerations upon Darry’s right cheek and jaw were bruised, but the flesh was clean and the skin was already healing. Jessa remembered their touch beneath her lips. She remembered everything and it wrenched at the small bit of strength she had left.

  There were runes that spilled and slid along Darry’s shoulders and caught the light, and Jessa narrowed her eyes against the flames and fullness of their presence. She heard the gentle laughter of her gods in her head and turned her face downward, trying to shield herself from the memory and command of their presence.

  Vhaelin Star came to a gentle stop and Jessa opened her eyes as Darry’s right hand slipped beneath the stag’s hide and took hold of her own.

  Akasha…

  Darry flinched just a bit at the echo in her head, and Jessa adjusted the power of her spell. It was not one she liked to use, but she had little choice in the matter.

  My sweet lover.

  “Are you all right?” Darry’s voice was painfully rough, but it was quiet in her throat.

  Jessa tightened her grip upon Darry’s hand. Darry’s eyes were filled with an abundance of color, bright and splendid with love as well as worry. She could see the striations within each, and the darkness of her pupils seemed to swirl with bursts of sunlight.

  You will lie with me and I shall hold you, and we will sleep for days, yes?

  Darry smiled. “Yes, my love.”

  Are you in pain?

  “A little.”

  Jessa looked up, feeling a shift in the air. She took stock of where they were. Bentley and Arkady are beyond the next rise, I think, she warned.

  “Just Bentley.” Darry glanced at the path and then returned to her with a slight grin. “He needs a bath.”

  Jessa leaned down despite that it caused the blood to rush in her ears. Her balance tipped to the side. Darry looked up at her, beautiful and wild and spent. Her shirt was still open and she bore the mark of Jessa’s mouth upon her neck and breasts, and Jessa could still taste the lush, intoxicating flavor of her skin. Her trousers were ripped and they hung low upon her narrow hips. Darry’s muscles were lax and her skin looked soft and pale with fatigue. It would take hours for Jessa to clear the tangles from her hair and undo the braids. The bruises from her battle at the stream were deep and stippled with blood, and Jessa could see in the sunlight that the lowest wound upon her jaw and neck would need additional attention.

  She had never been more beautiful to Jessa, or more completely fragile and vulnerable to the world around them. Jessa felt the tears burn in her eyes.

  Darry smiled and her dimple pressed in her left cheek. “I think you broke my tongue,” she whispered and her eyes were bright.

  Jessa laughed quietly and her tears slipped free.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t visit their temple again, maybe…at least for a while.”

  Jessa had no words for what she felt. Not for the moment they were in, nor for what they had shared in the grove. “I think you might be right,” she said softly, and a flash of pain moved in her head at having spoken aloud.

  Darry was quiet and Jessa felt the profound echo of their passion sweep through her heart, its absolute dominion toppling the last remaining walls she had built. Even now, after all they had been through, stones had yet remained. Collapsing walls against fear and towers that tipped in the dead of night upon her uncertainties, they had held on, if only in shadow and crumbling ruin. Defenses she had constructed through the years and then fortified anew before traveling the road to Arravan. She felt the dust of what remained swept away, and her heart left clean and full with life. She had been so very certain of what her fate would be, and she had been so utterly wrong in all of it.

  “Just a few more hours, Jess.” Darry’s expression was filled with tenderness. “We shall have a hot bath and a warm meal, and then we will sleep for days, just as you said.”

  Hinsa moved through the long grass beside the small trail, her low growl turning them both to the path ahead. Bentley Greeves topped the rise and stood at the top of the hill, surrounded by spunwood trees as their leaves flipped and turned in the breeze.

  Jessa squeezed Darry’s hand once more and felt a pull of desperation. They were no longer alone, and for an instant, it was a desolate feeling. Akasha.

  Darry smiled up at her, her eyes bright and yet touched with sadness. “Me, t
oo, my love.”

  Darry’s hand slipped away and she stepped along the trail, patting Vhaelin Star’s neck and taking up the reins once more. Jessa sat back and pulled the stag’s coat more tightly about her shoulders in an act of protection.

  Bentley had moved down the rise with a long stride, and as they walked toward him, Jessa could see that his eyes were keen and quick. As he approached, Darry pulled them to a halt and they waited.

  Without a word Bentley walked up to Darry and hooked his right arm about her neck, his movements filled with care. Darry leaned against his chest and he held to her shoulders. His expression was curious and filled with questions. “My Lady Jessa,” he said simply and gave her a caring smile. “It is very good to see you.” He glanced down at his friend. “Both of you.” He placed a kiss upon Darry’s temple and then stepped back from her.

  “We’re very tired, Bentley,” Darry replied. “Jessa has spoken to her gods, and…and we need to be home. It is good to see you, too, but things need to be quiet, I think, for a bit.”

  Bentley studied Darry with interest and then returned his gaze to Jessa. “Are you wounded, as well?” His question was touched with worry.

  No, Bentley, just…

  Bentley’s eyes narrowed at her voice in his head, but he did not react as most others did, with fear or pain. It was curious, and strangely like him to be the exception, and so she smiled. She remembered then that he had could see through the Veil of Shadows with little difficulty.

  “Just?” he asked softly.

  By the stream, by the bend beneath the bluffs…my gods have left gifts for Darry, for saving their sacred totem. Might you retrieve them, and bring them home for her?

  Bentley gave a nod. “Yes, I would be honored to do that, my Lady.”

  Thank you, my friend.

  Bentley smiled at Darry. He looked as if he wanted to say many things, and that he had questions was obvious, but he chose the course that was best for his friend. “Off with what’s left of your shirt, Cat,” he said with some authority. Darry dropped the reins and obeyed him. Bentley undid the buttons of his tunic and pulled it free of his belted trousers with a roll of his broad shoulders. “Put this on, then.”

  Darry met his eyes. “You keep losing your shirts.”

  He watched as she shrugged into it, and then he stepped forward and did up the buttons for her. “Yes,” he agreed simply, and his tone was kind. “Though perhaps this says more about you, Princess, than it does me. You always were a bit dodgy on your etiquette.”

  Darry laughed, the sound low and rough. Jessa’s arms ached for her and it was a strange sadness in her muscles that would not abate. Just to hold her and know that Darry was safe, it was all she wanted. The Yellandale was glorious beneath the morning sun but decidedly harsh at the moment, and they needed respite.

  “Take my Bella—she’s over the rise and ready to go. I was about to come after you. Arkady went back to the river for supplies and horses. I’ll wait here for him.” He turned to Jessa. “We shall take care of things, my Lady, and see you at home.” He grinned suddenly beneath his mustache and his eyes held a knowing glint that was not altogether discreet. “An autumn moon celebration to remember, yes?”

  Jessa tried not to laugh as she looked down, closing her eyes against the ache that moved through her head. Even the blush he had caused brought discomfort. Yes, I quite agree.

  * * *

  Jessa sat naked upon the edge of their bed as the afternoon sun struggled to reach through the heavy drapes that had been drawn.

  They had eaten warm buttered bread and hot vegetable stew in a beef gravy. It was quite possibly the best meal Jessa had ever eaten, and the cook, Lady Abagail, who was a plump woman filled with stories and recipes and easy laughter, had blushed when Jessa told her so. They had bathed, and Jessa had found her willpower even as Darry’s had faltered.

  Darry was covered in bruises and scrapes of all kinds, and there were claw marks upon her back as well, glancing blows she had won in her battle. Jessa had taken a line of stitches upon the underside of Darry’s right jaw and down onto her neck, treating the tender skin with a salve of passionflower and yarrow root first. Darry had not flinched, nor had she reacted in any way that might cause Jessa alarm, though Jessa had asked Darry to close her eyes. The blue and green of Darry’s gaze held an intensity that Jessa had been in no shape to endure for very long. Darry had smiled, kissed her, and obeyed. The taste of her full lips had almost stolen Jessa’s tenuous strength all over again.

  She let her fingers move through the clean softness of Darry’s hair, the strands dark with damp upon her pillow. It had not taken her as long as she’d thought to comb them out and clear the braids, and she had sung softly, a song that was a favorite of the Dark Ridge tribes.

  It felt good to sing. It felt good to use the gift her mother had given her. She had reclaimed it in the Yellandale night, by the light of a fire that had smelled of pine and oak, with the sound of the stream flowing nearby.

  Darry’s naked body was only partially covered by the sheet of their bed, and Jessa added to the inventory of scars that her lover wore. They were all hard-won, and not a single mark had been careless. Her touch hovered above the mark of the wolf, and she wondered how great the beast had been. The scars would announce Darry’s strength in a bold manner few others could claim, and a mixture of pride and desire fluttered through her chest.

  It would announce her lover as a warrior few would wish to engage, and she remembered the long, heavy scar that Neela’s lover had worn upon the left side of her face.

  Tannen Ahru, she thought, and her eyes found the hearth across the lengthy room.

  The fire burned upon the grate and its light moved upon the stag’s hide, rolled and waiting for her upon the divan. Beside it, her dusty saddlebags held both the ribbons of velvet hair and the antlers he had shed for her. They were tokens of magnificent power, and though her excitement at the spells she might now use was great, she also felt a good deal of apprehension. She had never known Radha to possess such tokens.

  She could not yet contemplate the runes upon the hide. It was too much.

  Darry’s arms slipped about her waist and shoulders and Jessa let out a sigh of relief. Her muscles let go and her eyes fluttered shut as she was pulled across Darry’s body. The softness of their bed greeted her like an old friend as the silk of the sheet drifted over them both.

  “Stop.”

  Jessa smiled at Darry’s intimate whisper and pulled her down. Darry moved gently against her side and Jessa shifted, holding her lover in her arms as she had promised she would.

  * * *

  Bentley turned the chair around, straddled it as he rested his arms upon its back, and let his eyes travel down the long table.

  Darry’s Boys had always been brothers, but as Kingsmen they had been comrades as well, and their unique style of fighting took their bonds of love into a unique space that Grissom Longshanks had never truly understood. On the battlefield they fought as a single man with a dozen swords, and they moved with a purpose so that each individual’s skill might support the whole.

  In life beyond the Kingsmen and Blackstone Keep, their brotherhood had only intensified, and he smiled at his chosen family as the afternoon sun poured into the dining hall. A hall in one of the buildings they had made with their own hands, of their own volition upon their own land. “You’ve all seen what we brought back?”

  His brothers looked back at him and a murmur of assent moved down the table.

  “Darry killed him with a dagger. The biggest wolf I’ve ever seen, by far.”

  “He had to have been at least fourteen stone,” Orlando said. He was their best hunter, and he had seen more game than most of them. “I don’t understand how the pelt came to be.”

  “Aye,” Lucien added. “That’s at least a fortnight of work there, and by a skilled tanner.”

  “It was a gift from the Vhaelin.”

  “Lady Jessa’s gods?” Sybok asked as several me
n leaned back in surprise at Bentley’s words. The young man’s face was pale. “Those Vhaelin?”

  “Aye, boy, those Vhaelin.”

  “All right…” Theroux spoke with a frown, his dusty blond hair pushed back from his brown eyes and hooked behind his ears. “But what does that mean?”

  “It means,” Bentley began and then stopped for a moment. “Listen…I believe in the trinity just like most of you. I worship Gamar, I fear Amar, and I cast my longing eyes upon the dangerous maids of Jezara.” There was some laughter, but he had their attention. “But I know there are others out there, other gods with power and followers, and long histories. And I know that none of them are above meddling in the affairs of men.”

  “The Vhaelin like the forests and the plains, and the places where men don’t go,” Lucien said. “I guess we shouldn’t be surprised they turned up in the Yellandale.”

  “Aye,” Bentley agreed. “And I won’t sit here and tell you that I understand such things, as to what the gods want or need, or why they choose to show up when they do. But we were all there when Gamar took his Holy Man from the steps of the great temple.”

  “I missed that,” Lucien said with a rueful smile. “And Darry did, too.”

  Their expressions changed, as they each remembered the summer’s eve when Gamar had come for one of his wild Holy Men, sweeping him up from the temple plaza in a blast of light and blue fire.

  “But we saw the power of Lady Jessa’s majik firsthand at the siege of the Great Hall, and in the courtyard, as well. It cannot be denied.”

  “We all believe, Bentley,” Jemin responded in his crisp accent, “in the gods, and in the power of all sorts of majik, especially Lady Jessa’s. And we all saw Hinsa’s portal, we all walked the maze. We’ve all seen the runes at work one way or another. Where are you leading us?”