The Dragon's War Page 8

  “You were merciless,” Astrid said, kissing, then patting Senta on the cheek. The High Priestess joined the Queen as the First General left with Helena on her arm.

  Astrid handed Halla a towel to wipe the sweat from her brow.

  “What?” the Queen asked at her knowing expression.

  “You’re inching towards that finish line, aren’t you?”

  The Queen laughed, not a bit put off by the observation. As far as she was concerned, it was only a matter of time before the girl shared her bed.

  “As are you, my love,” Halla replied, an allegation that Astrid did not deny, either.

  Lifa moved about her Ministry quarters, softly humming to herself. Freya and Ama, members of Lifa’s inner circle, sat on cushions and discussed the sexual development of several of their charges, comparing notes and making suggestions. Lifa smiled at the conversation, for the comments were gentle and loving, and once again convinced her she had chosen her staff wisely.

  Leya, Freya’s twin, came in and was escorting a visitor. This was an honored guest, as was evident by the fact that Freya and Ama leaped to their feet, and Lifa’s entire countenance beamed her pleasure.

  “Sable!” Lifa exclaimed, and went to hug the woman.

  Sable embraced Lifa and Lifa held her hands, stepping back to look at her.

  “You are beautiful as always,” Lifa said.

  And Sable was beautiful. Beautiful and unique for the Ha’kan. Although the majority of Ha’kan were dark-haired, there were many color variations such as Lifa’s auburn hair or Gimle’s blonde hair. What was largely consistent was that the Ha’kan were all fair-skinned, the warriors being slightly sun-burnished due to their time outdoors.

  But Sable’s skin was ebony, a variation that was highly unusual and prized within Ha’kan society. Sable’s mother possessed the same dark skin, but her grandmother was as fair as could be. The scholars had researched the phenomenon, but none had discovered the cause, and in the end, they determined the variation was simply a gift from Sjöfn. Sable’s mother had never felt the sting of prejudice, and had been treated the same as any other Ha’kan from birth, becoming a Scholar upon her graduation from the Academy. Her research was prized and she had even collaborated with the First Scholar on several projects. When her daughter was born with the same lovely skin, the Ha’kan rejoiced, and when her daughter came of age and chose the vocation of Priestess, they rejoiced even more.

  Lifa had approached Sable with the offer to join her staff, for the young woman was but a few years older than Lifa and was well-respected as a Priestess. But Sable had declined, and Lifa secretly worried that Sable feared she would be a “novelty.” Although the Ha’kan appreciated cultural diversity, they were a remarkably homogenous race in terms of appearance.

  “Have you given any more thought to joining us?” Ama asked, hope in her voice.

  “I think of it all the time,” Sable replied. “But that’s not why I’m here. I came because I heard that you and I have something in common,” she said, addressing Lifa.

  Lifa was curious; she and Sable had a multitude of things in common. Although slightly apart in age, they had attended some of the same schools at the same time growing up. They shared a vocation. Their mothers were close friends. She couldn’t guess what Sable was getting at, although the gleam in Sable’s eye gave her a sudden insight and her eyes drifted down to Sable’s stomach.

  “Are you—?” Lifa asked, not daring to hope.

  “I am!” Sable exclaimed. “I had suspected, but didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. And now it’s been confirmed!”

  Lifa hugged Sable tightly, and released her only so that Leya, Freya, and Ama could also share their joy with embraces. When the prolonged hugging was finished, Lifa settled onto the couch with Sable and the other priestesses settled around the cushioned circle.

  “Although we will rejoice in the birth of your child regardless, I confess I hope she has your skin,” Ama said, “it’s so lovely.”

  “Thank you,” Sable said. “But as often thought as I’ve thought about joining you here in the capital, I don’t want the choice to be based on a superficial characteristic.”

  “Do you think I would offer you the position based on your skin alone?” Lifa said, gently chiding. “Your merits as a Priestess are well known. Besides,” Lifa said, glancing up the figure coming through the door, “we already have a bit of the exotic around here.”

  The young woman coming through the door was exquisite, slender build, olive skin, hazel eyes, light blonde hair. She looked nothing like the Ha’kan and had a very perplexed look on her face.

  “Oh,” Skye said, embarrassed that she had barged in, “I’m sorry Lifa, I didn’t realize you had company.”

  Lifa laughed merrily, as did all the Priestesses as Sable looked on in wonder at Skye. “You’re always welcome, silly, you know that.”

  Skye had a touch of color in her cheeks as she presented herself to the newcomer. She bowed in a formal manner and extended her hand, which Sable took, utterly charmed by her manner.

  “Sable,” Lifa said, “this is Skye.”

  “Ah,” Sable said, “you are the Tavinter.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you,” Skye said.

  “And I’m very pleased to meet you,” Sable said. And indeed she was, for the greeting she received held not the faintest trace of acknowledgement of the color of her skin, and Sable was not certain the Tavinter had even noticed.

  Lifa was also aware of Skye’s nonchalance, something that all of the Ha’kan tried to maintain around Sable and her mother. Lifa particularly was sensitive to Sable’s feelings. Although not singled out to the degree that Sable was, Lifa had been designated as the future High Priestess from a very young age, and sometimes constant attention, even positive, could be wearing. She could not imagine what Sable experienced. But Skye’s people were much more varied in appearance, and some had skin as dark as Sable’s, so Skye’s indifference was genuine.

  Skye sprawled onto the couch across from Lifa, a look of consternation on her face.

  “And what is that look for, my little Tavinter?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that the Queen was a warrior?”

  Lifa was baffled, both at the question and why Skye came to her as opposed to Dallan. “I guess I assumed you knew. It is no secret that the Queen was of the Warrior caste before she gave up her vocation to be Queen.”

  Skye continued to brood and Lifa still did not understand why. “And how is it you learned that she was a warrior?” she delicately prodded.

  “We just sparred.”

  All of the Priestesses subtly shifted their positions as understanding took hold. Swordplay amongst the Ha’kan was always about more than mere training. Lifa suppressed a smile.

  “And did you win?”

  Skye frowned. “That is a contest you cannot win.”

  Sable covered her mouth, also trying to hide her smile.

  “By the gods,” Skye said, thinking of the last hour, “you should see her in that training armor.”

  Lifa could contain herself no longer and burst out laughing. “The Queen is gorgeous, why are you so troubled by that?”

  “It feels wrong, or like it should be wrong,” Skye asked uncertainly, “I mean, that’s Dallan’s mother!”

  Sable was puzzled by the comment, and Lifa patted her on the thigh. “You have to remember that, although Skye has been with us for years, she is not Ha’kan. No,” she continued, addressing Skye, “there is nothing in the world wrong with your attraction to her. Or to the High Priestess.”

  Skye turned bright red. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Well…,” Lifa said.

  Skye buried her head in her hands, then got a hold of herself. “It’s not like anything would actually happen,” she muttered.

  “Well….,” Lifa said again.

  “Now that’s a look on your face I don’t think I’ve seen since the Academy,” Dallan said, strolling into the room.
“One I’ve sorely missed. And how has Lifa managed to embarrass you this time? Or perhaps it was Sable?” Dallan said, leaning down to kiss the visiting Priestess.

  “It was neither of us,” Lifa said, “this is your mother’s work.”

  “Really?” Dallan said, casting Skye a wicked grin. “And what did my mother do?”

  “Nothing,” Skye said dismissively, “we just—, we just sparred.”

  “You sparred with my mother?” Dallan exclaimed. “Oh, you’re in trouble now.”

  Dallan’s laughing response told Skye the trouble would come from the Queen, not her, and it was exactly the trouble that Lifa alluded to.

  “Shut up,” Skye said crossly, “are we going to hunt or what?”

  “Rika awaits, as does Raine.”

  “Good,” Skye said, leaping to her feet. She bowed to the Priestesses as a whole. “If you will excuse me.”

  “Goodbye, Skye,” Lifa said, gaiety still in her voice.

  Dallan clapped an arm around Skye’s shoulders as they departed, and her voice drifted back.

  “So did you ‘spar’ with Astrid as well?”

  “Oh, just shut up.”

  Dallan rode out the city gates, her merriment still evident. And much to Skye’s discomfiture, Rika now shared in that merriment as Dallan had straightaway told her of Skye’s sparring session. And when Skye confessed that she had told the Queen she thought she might have been a Priestess, they both broke into uproarious laughter.

  Raine rode alongside the Tavinter, sympathetic to her discomposure.

  “You’ve done well adapting to the Ha’kan. It must be confusing sometimes.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Skye said, “I adore them. I would not change anything in the world, except the times when I’ve been apart from them. But yes, sometimes it’s confusing.” Skye stared at the strong backs of the two women in front of them. “And I love it when Talan flusters Dallan. It somewhat evens the score.”

  “Talan is not much for socializing, but I will tell her to arrange more chance meetings.”

  Skye’s eyes glowed at the thought. “That would be wonderful.”

  The four rode along in comfort. An outing by the Princess would normally require accompaniment by the Royal Guard, but the presence of the Scinterian changed that. The Princess was able to take care of herself, and there was nothing the Scinterian could not handle.

  They reached the edge of the forest and a Tavinter scout materialized out of the foliage. She wordlessly took the reins of the horses, signing to Skye that she would stay with the animals while the hunters continued on foot.

  Skye took one step into the trees and disappeared. Both Rika and Dallan shook their heads at the feat. The Tavinter were stealth itself and Skye was like a ghost. She was probably right next to them as they set out beneath the canopy of leaves. Raine drifted off to the right and soon she, too, had disappeared. Neither Rika nor Dallan were concerned. Skye’s people were probably all around them.

  Which is what Skye thought, too, but strangely she did not sense anyone near her. This did not worry her; it was just unusual. Her people shadowed her constantly, never very far from their beloved leader. In truth, she had hoped to see some of them as she had spent most of her time of late in the Ha’kan capital. But it didn’t seem that anyone was close to her.

  So she just enjoyed the forest. The smell of pine, the soft needles beneath her feet, the soft padding of the animals around her, the gentle buzz of insects, the various songs of the birds in the boughs above, all were a comfort and a joy to her.

  And then, everything went silent. Skye stopped, unmoving, her ears straining the forest around her. Her eyes scanned the trees in front of her, then to the sides. Slowly, she turned around without making a sound.

  “Hello, little one.”

  Directly behind her, only feet away, stood a coldly beautiful woman with long white hair and alabaster skin dressed in a white gown that was incongruous in the forest. Incongruous or not, it pushed her full breasts upward, emphasized her small waist, and clung to curvaceous hips, and Skye, as imperiled as she was at the moment, let her eyes linger in appreciation.

  “Ah, I see you missed me,” the sorceress said, pleased.

  “Parts of you,” Skye said, and Ingrid was taken aback at the admission. The girl had not moved or made any motion to flee, but Ingrid warned her nonetheless.

  “Do not attempt your spells,” she said, “the ones that allowed you to escape the last time. My spell of binding captured enough of you that you will not be able to hide.”

  Skye wasn’t certain that was true. As powerful as the sorceress was, the ephemeral spell, by design, was impenetrable. Still, she had no urge to test that theory.

  “What do you want from me?” Skye asked.

  This gave the sorceress pause. What a ridiculous question. What did the girl think she wanted from her? She had kidnapped her twice, the first time brutalizing her, the second time deceiving her into believing they were lovers. She had threatened her life and the lives of her friends. She had sworn vengeance on her and her entire family.

  But the power of that question was haunting, because for the first time, as Ingrid stood in the forest, ready to strike down the girl in front of her, she wasn’t certain.

  “Because,” Skye continued casually, “if it’s revenge against Isleif, that incentive is almost gone. My great-grandfather is not long for this world, and soon he will know nothing of any pain you exact from me.”

  Ingrid tried to ignore the logic of those words. She tried to convince herself that it would be enough for her to know that she was hurting Isleif’s offspring. She tried, and she failed. Her great joy was to feel the wizard’s pain, but he would feel nothing when he was dead.

  “So again I must ask you, what is it you want from me?”

  “I want your blood, and I want you in my bed.”

  The statement was blunt and brutal, meant to shock and offend. But it had little effect on the Tavinter, who merely considered the words.

  “There are ways other than force that this could be achieved.”

  This stunned the sorceress into complete silence. The girl she had ripped from the center of a Ha’kan encampment years before had transitioned into something inexplicable.

  “I don’t think you want to be in a ‘relationship,’” Skye continued, musing aloud, “if I remember rightly, you got bored very quickly with my alter-ego, ‘Signe.’”

  “Yes,” Ingrid said mockingly, “I must say I prefer you as yourself. And the day-to-day living was something of a yawn.”

  “So then, I have a proposal for you.”

  Ingrid’s disbelief was now complete. That the girl would stand here so calmly and make an offer to her sworn enemy was incomprehensible. And the offer itself was even more incomprehensible.

  “I will come to you on every full moon and stay with you for a day and a night. You may do with me as you will during that time, but all other times you will leave me and mine alone.”

  Ingrid repeated the proposal slowly, enunciating every word. “You would give yourself up to me, allow me to do anything I wish, every month, for the rest of your life?”

  “I would,” Skye said, then shrugged her shoulders. “I enjoy having sex with you.”

  This again stunned the sorceress into silence. She narrowed her eyes. “And you would give me your blood?”

  “Within reason, yes,” Skye said. “You cannot threaten my life, but based on past experience, you don’t need much.”

  “And your friends would allow you to abide by such a pact?”

  Dallan and Rika stepped from the forest, their swords drawn. Then, they very deliberately sheathed the weapons.

  “We would,” Dallan said. She turned to Skye. “This is consensual and of your own free will?”

  Skye nodded.

  “How in the world can this be of your own free will?” Ingrid asked, her incredulity causing her to argue against her own interests.

  “Because Raine coul
d have killed you at any time.”

  And it was then that Ingrid felt the twin pricks of the blades at her sides. The Scinterian stood right behind her, both swords hovering within inches of her heart. The deadly warrior had moved in silently and stood poised, the most dangerous creature in the world to a sorceress: one completely immune to magic.

  Raine, too, sheathed her swords and stepped around the dazed woman.

  “Is this truly your wish, Skye?”

  “It is.”

  Raine turned to Ingrid. “And will you abide by the terms of this agreement?”

  Ingrid shook her head, not in a negative response but in disbelief. She looked to Dallan and Rika. “And you two would approve of this?”

  They seemed almost confused by the question. “Of course we would,” Dallan said, “it’s a perfectly reasonable solution.”

  And only then did Ingrid truly grasp the nature of the Ha’kan. Many thought they understood the communal race and their emphasis on sexuality, but most were interpreting it through the prism of their own reality. The Ha’kan handled everything through sex, not just what was pleasurable, but conflict, disagreement, and hostility as well. The social mores that others attempted to lay over the Ha’kan culture were not only inapplicable, they were diametrically opposed. There was no jealousy or possessiveness or anger in the mind of the Princess of the Ha’kan, she merely saw Skye’s proposal as a viable resolution. Granted, Dallan’s anger at the sorceress was such she gladly would have killed her, but if Skye wished another solution, Dallan would abide by her wishes.

  “And you would allow this?” Ingrid said, turning to the Scinterian.

  “I will on one condition,” Raine said. “You must not have any further contact with the Goddess of the Underworld.”

  “Hel has no further use of me,” Ingrid said bitterly, “and has abandoned my cause.”

  “Hel has only her own cause.” Raine said. “Trust me, you are better off.”

  Ingrid turned to Skye. “So you will come to me in seven days’ time? And stay from moonrise to moonrise?”

  “I will,” Skye declared solemnly.