The Battle Sylph (5 page)

Ril’s golden perch was there, empty, while beside it stood the seven-foot suit of armor that was Mace. She knew his name—everyone knew his name. He stood there, staring down at her, and she gaped in return. The hate she’d always felt before near the battlers was gone without his master. She felt…safe. Somehow, this massive creature, whose waist she barely reached, made her feel safe. She hadn’t felt so secure in years.

Slowly she stepped toward him, reaching out a hand to touch his leg plate. It wasn’t metal she touched, though. It was warm, and it trembled under her touch. She peeked up at him.

“The armor’s you, isn’t it?” she whispered.

Silently, he nodded.

The servant girl stared, licking her lips. Something about the battler made her very warm, and protected, and daring. “Mace,” she said, trying out the sound of the name.

He shivered again.

“Mace,” she repeated, stroking his leg and sliding her hand around it. There was no hate, but she could feel lust in the air, filling her, and she didn’t know if it was coming from him or her. It was there, though, more than she’d ever felt from the lords who had the right to take her whenever they wanted. She’d rather
he
took her.

She whimpered. Mace reached down and lifted her, and she didn’t resist, his desire as deep in her mind as his hate was to men. He lifted her skirts and pulled her bloomers off, and then he was inside her, holding her along his forearms as he entered her body, her legs spread wide around his hips. She cried out softly, wanting to scream but not daring to let anyone hear her, not even when no one would pass the area for battlers if they could at all help it.

He was surprisingly gentle, his size just enough to stretch her without tearing, to fill her without harming. He seemed to know what she wanted and he gave it to her, even as he kept the desire firm in her mind. It did come from him—his need penetrating her mind until he overwhelmed her inhibitions—but she’d invited him, just as all those serving girls and courtiers who sneaked to his side did, entranced by his danger and his size. His master had only told Mace to wait when he was busy and come when called, nothing more. Nothing about not letting women come to him. And come they did, all keeping the secret of his attraction, as he knew this one would, for her own safety if not for his. She wasn’t a queen to him in the way the girl who’d died to lure him through the gate would have been, but she was enough to keep his sanity intact in this place. He didn’t know how Ril and Thrall and the other battlers kept theirs, but this was how he maintained his: in the bodies of any women he could reach without his master finding out, many of whom returned to him repeatedly.

He plunged into her as deeply as he dared, bringing her to orgasm over and over again before finally letting himself finish. Then he shook, there in the alcove, holding the girl to him like all the others and wishing one of them could be his queen.

Heyou landed by the edge of the hot spring to find his queen sitting in one of the cooler pools, her head reclined against the side. She was asleep, her breasts poking up through the steam. Remembering her order, he tried to look at her face without seeing the rest and finally had to stand with his back to her, holding out at arm’s length the clothes he’d brought.

“I’m back, my queen,” he told her. Predictably, she shrieked, and he heard splashing behind him as she fell into the water. He sighed. He really didn’t understand queens.

“Th-thank you,” she managed, coughing, and snatched the garments out of his hand. He heard rustling, and finally she told him he could turn around.

He did so. She stood before him dressed in a tunic made from much the same material as his, though hers was a faded green instead of brown and reached to her ankles. Her dress had no sleeves, but she had a worn blouse on under it, the waist tied with a rope belt. Her hair was a tangled mess and her face still dirty around the ears, as was the neck where she’d missed when she’d bathed.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Beautiful, my queen,” he told her truthfully.

She blushed. “Thanks. You know, you don’t have to call me your queen. My name is Solie.”

She’d told him her name. Heyou’s eyes widened in gratitude. “Solie,” he breathed.

Solie blinked, not sure about the tone he’d used, and glanced around. “Um, now what?”

Whatever she wanted.

“Can you take me to my aunt’s house?” she asked.

He didn’t have the faintest idea where that was. Nonetheless, he said, “Absolutely,” and reached for her. She flinched back and he frowned. He pointed out, “I have to carry you.”

“Oh, right.”

Laughing nervously, she stepped into his embrace. It nearly undid him. She smelled so good, so female, so much his queen that he shuddered, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and…His hands closed around her slim form and he swallowed, afraid to look into her eyes and show it. She didn’t want him that way. At least, he didn’t think she wanted him. He didn’t want to see the fear in her eyes, so he held her and changed form and rose up, flying over the springs with Solie cradled gently within him.

The air sylph from earlier tracked them, following a distance back. Suddenly suspicious, Heyou blasted his thoughts at her.
What are you doing?

Following, following,
she answered immediately, not stupid enough to try a denial.
Only that. My master demands it.

Why?

Curiosity, I suppose.
It didn’t sound as if she knew.

Heyou kept flying, thinking. Solie had said not to harm anyone. That, to him, included sylphs, but this one wasn’t from his hive.
Well, stay back,
he decided.

The air sylph increased the distance between them.

Heyou rose up over the mountains, looking downward at slopes of trees and rocks. It was cold up here, but Solie was warm, cradled in his embrace. She couldn’t see where they were going, surrounded by his darkness, but while she was nervous, she handled it well.

Where is your aunt?
he asked, sending the words directly into her mind, the same as he’d spoken to the air sylph.

Solie jumped. “Um, northeast of the castle where you
found me. There are crossroads there. She’s north of the crossroads in the first town, at the bakery. Can you find it?”

Probably, though he didn’t like the thought of going close to the gate again. There was nothing for it, however, so he banked his turn, headed back in that direction. “I can find it,” he assured her. He’d have to.

He flew slower than he had when searching for clothes, not wanting to risk her and content just to hold her anyway. Carrying Solie felt strange, but she was light, and there was a sweet aura of energy around her that he knew he could drink from. It tasted soothing to him and good, unlike the rest of the foul energies in this place. Those, he knew, were inedible to him, poison. Only Solie had energy that could sustain him.

Below, the mountains and forests were replaced by farmland, and he saw the castle he’d taken her from, surrounded by its walls and city. East of that, the road she’d mentioned led away in a snaking line, crossed by another road after a few short miles. Heyou glided far above these, following the northern fork into a shallow valley surrounded by fruit orchards. A small town lay there, the streets cobbled and the buildings made of clean stone.

He swooped in, keeping behind trees, where no one would see him. He sensed no new sylphs. Most of them seemed to inhabit the castle, which was another good reason to avoid it. The air sylph still followed, keeping about a league back. He thought about it again and decided to keep ignoring her for the moment.

Landing behind a copse of apple trees long since empty of fruit, he shifted, settling Solie on her feet and reluctantly letting go of her. She looked around herself, eyes widening at the sight of the orchard. Pushing her way through the low-hanging branches, she looked down the slope at the backs of the houses.

“This is my aunt’s village! It took so little time to get
here!” She turned, throwing her arms around him in thanks, and Heyou immediately embraced her, his face buried in her neck. Solie froze, her breath catching in fear.

Heyou closed his eyes and breathed through his mouth against her throat, his hands flat and open against her back. He fed on his queen’s energy, and the taste of it only increased his desire. He could feel her heart beating with increasing speed against his chest and pulled her closer, his body pressed against hers from chest to hips. She shivered, and he pulled his head back to look at her, eyes heavy lidded. Her own pupils were immense, shaken by a need she wasn’t ready for, despite the bond between them. Heyou couldn’t let go, though—not without her order. It was all he could do not to push forward into her. Such was his desire.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she whispered, and he heard the longing in her voice.

His mouth was only inches from hers. He could taste her breath. “You’re my queen,” he answered, his hands moving slowly up and down her back. “I’m yours.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she gasped, her nipples hard against his chest.

Oh, he thought they should. Her body thought they should also. “Please,” he whispered, and licked her neck. “Let me.”

In answer, she shoved him back, gasping. Her face was flushed and beautiful. “No! I hardly know you. Women…we don’t do that! Not when we don’t know the man.” She stared at him. “You’re not even human!”

“I’m human enough,” he tried, but she shook her head.

“My aunt is waiting,” she told him. “Come on.” She headed off through the orchard, nearly running.

Obediently, Heyou followed.

Solie shuddered at how close she’d come to doing something she never would have imagined of herself before. She’d
looked at boys, certainly, and daydreamed with her friends, but she’d barely known Heyou a few hours and she’d nearly…She blushed red and tried to tell her body to forget the idea. None of the stories she’d heard about battlers mentioned behavior like
this
.

She didn’t dare look back. She didn’t know what she was going to do about Heyou—maybe she could get him to leave? But she knew one thing: she was
never
going to touch him again, even to pass him anything. Some aspect of him woke too many things inside her, and that was one storm by which she had no intention of being swept away.

Breathing hard, trying to settle her mind, she found a little bit of peace as she made her way out of the orchard and along a back lane into town. She’d been here hundreds of times during her childhood and knew the way very well. Her aunt’s bakery was only a short way off, and there was no one to see them as they crept down the road except children like the child she herself used to be, playing in the bushes and the trash and staring at her old clothes and tangled hair.

They were only children, but Heyou moved between them and Solie, intently watching a group of tow-headed boys. “They’re fine,” Solie told him, almost reaching out to touch his arm but stopping herself. He relaxed slightly, but still kept an eye on the boys, who ended up screaming and running off.

“What did you do to them?” Solie asked, confused.

“I don’t like men,” he snorted, his eyes narrow.

“They’re children!” she protested.

“They’re male.” That seemed to be enough for him.

That was something Solie had heard from the stories, actually: battlers hated men. More specifically, she’d been told they hated all people and other sylphs like themselves. “How do you feel about women?” she asked him.

He smiled. “I like them.”

“But you hate men.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “You’re very strange. I think you’ll like my aunt’s bakery, though. If she lets you in.” Solie hadn’t actually thought about that, but her plan had never been to show up with company when she first left home. With a pang, she wondered if her parents knew she was missing yet. Surely they did. They might even be waiting for her here.

She wondered how Heyou would react to her father. She didn’t think it would be good.

The back of the bakery appeared ahead of them, the door painted a vibrant blue and the rear wall stacked with firewood. She could smell fresh bread, and smoke poured up the chimneys. Her mouth watering from the smell, Solie hurried up to the back step, bypassing the well, and knocked on the door.

It opened to show a middle-aged woman with her hair tied back in a kerchief. She looked at Solie and her eyes grew large. “Child! What in the world happened to you?” She swung the door wide. “Get in here. Your aunt will catch a fright!”

“Thanks, Mimsy,” Solie said, stepping past. The baker went to close the door behind her, but Heyou squeezed through, hurrying to Solie’s side.

“Hey!” Mimsy called, startled. “You can’t come in here!” She was staring at him, and Heyou smiled in return.

“I won’t leave Solie,” he told her cheerfully.

“Mimsy, p-please,” Solie stammered. “Um, it’s a long story, but can he stay here? I’ll explain everything to my aunt, I promise.”

The woman looked Heyou up and down. “It doesn’t look like a long story at all,” she commented, and stomped away. “Wait here and don’t touch anything. You’re both filthy. I’ll get your aunt.”

Solie exhaled once the woman left, and looked around
the room. The kitchen took up half the main floor and was scrupulously clean: the counters shone, and the wood table they rolled the dough on was scrubbed until it glowed. Huge ovens stood against the back wall, two of them filled with rising bread. Fresh loaves were stacked on the table, ready to be transferred to trays and taken to the front store to be sold.

Masha’s other helpers, two girls from poor families, stared at Solie and Heyou. They’d seen her before, but not with a man. Not with a man like
him
. Solie found herself blushing and tried to look uninterested, but Heyou seemed right at home. He wandered over to the girls, smiling, and he started chattering, that strange aura of his both comforting and familiar. The two girls relaxed immediately and responded. Solie almost felt jealous, but he didn’t touch either of them…and then she frowned at the realization that she was feeling jealous at all.

A moment later, the door swung open and her aunt Masha came in. A tall woman, her face pinched and stern, she’d always been kind to Solie. Her long gray hair was bound up into a bun, streaks of red still showing in it, and she wore an apron over her flour-spattered dress. Masha always helped with the baking.

She looked at Solie, hugging her back when the girl ran into her embrace, and sighed. “I really hoped you’d be smart enough not to come here,” she said, and Solie drew back in surprise.

“Your father and your fiancé are here,” her aunt went on regretfully. “They’ve come to take you home.”