Violet and Verde (3 page)

A light touch on the nape of her neck caused her to jump, furled violet wings sweeping open, sending loose papers flying as she emitted an undignified squawk of surprise.

“Sorry about that,” said a mellow baritone voice full of wry amusement.

She spun to face her attacker and saw nothing. Stiffening in rage, she cast out with her mage senses.
Not directly before me, but perhaps there, off to the left…yes, there’s someone there, I’m certain of it.
A moment of concentration, a whispered word and a simple gesture caused a fat spark of purple electricity to flash across the space between them and give whoever it was quite a jolt.

“Ow!” said the baritone, his invisibility fading to reveal a Kephi, dressed in the black and amber of his sect, down to the concealing, full-face mask and gloves meant to hide his identity. Not a bit of skin or hair was visible, entirely by design, for the Kephi often went into Polemo, the very lair of the Unmaker, their God’s true enemy. “I should have known better than to play games with a mage,” he continued, his voice strangely cheerful for a man who’d just been shocked.

“You must be S’Tyll,” said Ave crossly. “I hope you realize that your voice is so distinctive that it would be a dead giveaway. Why conceal your face but not your voice?”

“I’m a Riverlands specialist,” said Tyll. After a moment, he pulled the mask off. “The thing’s such a bother, anyway.”

Ave studied him. He was tall, handsome, with sandy light brown hair and appealing dark blue eyes. But his best feature had to be his voice. It was marvelous to hear, a liquid flow of honeyed tones, inflected just so. He was studying her in turn, so after a moment, she said, “So, you’re Rak’s lover, I hear.”

“That’s right, I am.” There was no heat in Tyll’s voice. He was perfectly calm. “I first met Rak when he was still a dancer. I’ve been in love with him for years.”

“Why are you here? To rub it in?” Ave’s ire was growing again. She scowled at him, hoping he’d take the warning and hoof it out of there before her temper exploded into further displays of electrical ability.

Tyll shook his head. “No, not at all. I’m here to ask you not to throw away what you have with Rak.”

“What I have with him? What do I have with him? Nothing, that’s what. Because he has you already. He doesn’t need me.”

“You’re wrong, he does need you, Ave. He’s in love with you. He spent half the day crying on my shoulder, I’ll have you know, because he thinks he’s lost you. Because of his past, what was done to him. The potions.”

“But—”

“And I can’t marry him, Ave,” Tyll continued, cutting across her budding protest. “The purpose of marriage is children. I’m Kephi, I’m away more than I’m here. He’s Thezi, a member of the dragonwings. We’re both in fighting sects. How can we adopt when we are not here to see to the children we’ve taken responsibility for?”

“Enough,” she snapped, purple tracings of power skittering across her hands. To her relief, he stopped immediately. Tentatively, she asked, “You won’t mind? Really? If Rak and I were a couple?”

Tyll shook his head. “Not so long as I wasn’t shut out of Rak’s life. Besides…look at it this way…you’d have a lover in him on your terms. When you wanted it and no more.”

Although Ave rolled her eyes, that did have some appeal. She’d heard some of the other priestesses complaining about how their mates always wanted it at the worst possible times. And Rak’s wings were tesserine, like hers, a sign of the Loftoni royal bloodline. Nobody in their right mind would object to their union. Rak was, in a word, perfect for her.

As she ruminated on her relationship with Rak, intent on exploring her feelings, Tyll settled down on a stool, glanced about furtively then pulled a small lyre out from under his robe. He plucked a string, adjusted a knob then struck up a soft, plaintive melody.

As she glanced up, feeling her eyes widening, he burst into song. The power of his voice shook her, then swept her mind far away.

Through the power of his music, she saw the ancient, creamy marble buildings of Zoth. She flew over green hills until she came to the magnificent structure that could only be the Aroz palace. Guided by Tyll’s gift, she floated into the palace, unseen, a ghost, visiting the reconstructed past. She entered the great hall, and as she’d guessed she would, she saw Rak dance. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

The vision shattered into a million pieces as an irate Movai grabbed Tyll’s lyre and hissed, “Silence in the scriptorium.”

Ave busied herself with cleaning up her station as Tyll apologized to the glaring monk, eventually convincing him that he intended no further disruption to the sanctity of the sacred scriptorium. Once the Movai had walked off, still muttering about fool music-making Kephi, she turned to Tyll and said, “No wonder your voice is so distinctively lovely. You’re a bard.”

Tyll inclined his head gravely, but his boyish grin ruined the effect.

Ave found herself warming to him, he who was her competition for Rak. With a start, she realized that she actually liked the man. She offered him a hand. “I will see Rak tonight, speak to him. Perhaps we should have dinner together?”

Delighted, Tyll swept her up into a rib-cracking hug that only relented when she squeaked for mercy.

* * * *

It was only a few nights later when Ravinia waylaid Ave coming out of the circular chamber the mages used for major workings. “Ave,” she said, in a patently hearty tone of voice. “You haven’t been to see your family in far too long. How about tonight, after mass, you join us for supper?”

“What are you planning, Mother?” Ave knew her mother wouldn’t be inviting her just because she missed her daughter. Ravinia did fiercely love her children, but she had never been very motherly and had almost seemed relieved as her offspring left home, one by one, to enter the novitiate and forge their own careers in the temple.

“Uncle Torel may not have told you, but there’s a new family in from Loftos. They have a son, Baedel. I was thinking you might like to meet him. He’s only two years younger than you are.”

“Mother, I am already seeing Rak tonight,” Ave said firmly. “I’m going to ask him to marry me.”

“Marriage? Ave! He hasn’t even met the family or asked permission to court you.”

“He did ask permission. Of
me
. I don’t need your or father’s or the family’s permission to follow my heart.”

“Rak’s male-obligate,” Ravi said in a hard voice. “He can’t lie with a woman without feeling pain. He also has a lover, the Kephi S’Tyll. Even if you love him, even if he professes to love you, odds are you will never be anything but second best to him. Is that the mate, the life, you want? Oh, daughter…you could do so much better. Come to dinner and meet Baedel. You’ll see.”

“No, Mother. I won’t. And I like Tyll almost as much as I like Rak!” Ave turned on a heel and stalked off, fuming. How dare her mother try to dictate who she could marry! And asking permission of the
family
to court her? How incredibly archaic!

* * * *

Ave stood scowling at the noncompliant heap of fabric. She had been trying to set the spells into this blasted tent for half the night, and for some reason, they just wouldn’t take. Rak was a welcome distraction.

He gently rested a hand on her shoulder, murmuring, “M’lady, did you forget that we were to meet this evening?”

Ave leaned back against him, sighing. “I’m sorry, Rak. I did forget, thanks to this dragon-blasted, night-cursed tent that won’t take a simple spell!”

Rak eyed the heap of fabric dubiously. “Hmm. Are you certain that it is a tent, m’lady? It does not look like one.”

Ave scowled at the tent. “Of course I’m sure! What else could it be?”

Rak poked at it with a finger. “It looks more like the jackets that we use to keep the baby basilisk from hurting each other than a tent, m’lady.”

Ave’s eyes widened, and she could feel the heat of her face as it turned red. She reached for the tent and began to spread out the folds of the bundled fabric. Quickly, she discovered that Rak was right. Although it had been folded to
look
like a tent, it wasn’t. It was indeed a basilisk jacket. “That’s it,” she snarled. “I can’t take this any longer!” She stomped off without a word, leaving Rak bemusedly studying the jacket.

* * * *

Ave returned to the lesser workroom to find Rak pretty much where she’d left him. She smiled at the way he hastily backed away from a shelf, as if he hadn’t been peering at its contents. “Well, I’m taking the rest of tonight off, having wasted a great deal of power trying to get a basilisk jacket to think it’s a tent. And the young acolyte responsible for this prank is roasting nicely over the coals of S’Tanyl’s rage.”

Rak winced, then grinned. “While I agree that it wasn’t a very nice prank to do, at least it gives me more time with you.”

“That’s true, but we Arrai hold to a higher standard than do some other sects,” teased Ave.

Rak smiled but didn’t try to argue that point. “M’lady, shall we go?” He led her out to the landing field where Scorth waited.

Once they were in the air, Rak wrapped his arms around her and began to kiss her passionately. She melted into his embrace, enjoying the feel of his muscular body beneath the simple working uniform he wore. After a few minutes, she pulled away. “Rak…we need to talk!” she shouted over the wind rushing past them.

Rak nodded agreement and didn’t persist in his affections. His self-control was yet another thing she admired about him. A few minutes later, Scorth spiraled down, landing in a secluded oasis on the far end of the mighty plateau from Okyro. Since this oasis consisted of a few stunted trees and a spring that appeared for less than ten feet before going back underground, it wasn’t well utilized. No one was permitted to live on the plateau other than in the city, and most patrols occurred around the plateau, not on it.

Ave smiled as she sat down on the soft sand by the water’s edge.

Rak joined her, tucking one foot under himself and stretching the other out, his back against a tree trunk. He regarded her with a slight smile on his lips and remained silent, obviously waiting for her to speak first.

Ave tossed her copper hair over a shoulder, glanced at him coyly, and asked, “
Siflion
Rak, will you marry me?” She saw no point in beating around the bush, and here in Okyro, it was the woman’s place to ask this, not the man’s.

Rak reached out and swept a stray tendril of her hair back behind her ear. “Of course I will, Ave. I love you.”

“And if I want you
now
?”

“I am yours for the taking, m’lady. If you can figure out how to tie me down out here, then by all means...” His suggestive leer was a challenge. And she couldn’t resist a challenge.

Ave chuckled as she undid the laces at the neck of his tunic. “I am going to make you
mine
, Rak of the Thezi.”

Clothing flew every which way as they undressed each other. At last, Rak was naked and so was she, sitting on his thighs. She admired his lithe, muscular body, noting the faint scars, some of which were in odd places, and the vivid tattoos he bore on his lower abdomen, forearms and hips. Tattoo flames cascaded over his shoulders and upper arms, hinting at even more permanent artwork on his back. She ran a hand from his chest to his belly, and even lower, tracing the geometric design that suggested wings, before touching his manhood for the first time, feeling it grow and harden in her hand. The total lack of body hair was a little disconcerting at first, but she found that she no longer cared once the full size of his erect penis became apparent.

She stood up, giggling as she pulled him along by that large, thick pole that jutted out so imperiously.

Rak followed her silently as she led him to an open area of soft sand.

“Lie down on your back,” she said as she pulled up a clump of grass.

Rak did as she asked, and Ave quickly positioned his limbs where she wanted them before placing strands of grass across his wrists and ankles. Concentrating, she whispered a few words that twisted in the air, disappearing almost unheard.

Rak’s eyes widened as he discovered himself bound to the ground by strands of grass and magic.

Ave grinned at his expression. “Are you well bound now, my dear?”

Rak licked his lips. “Yes, m’lady. Very well bound, indeed.”

Ave straddled his stomach, her fingers lightly running down his sides, “Are you ticklish, I wonder?”

Rak squirmed under her touch, gasping with restrained laughter.

“Ah, I see that you are.” She removed her hands, “Of course, that wasn’t really nice of me, was it? You are literally at my mercy now, and I
tickle
you? What
was
I thinking?”

Ave scooted down to sit on his thighs, her fingers stroking his shaft.

Rak gasped softly at the contact, his hips rising up beseechingly. “M’lady,” he whispered, and Ave rose up onto her knees and over him.

Then, she eased herself down, impaling herself on his thick pole. Rak moaned as she enveloped him, and Ave rolled her hips in a little circle, causing further small noises from her bound man.

Then she rode him, using his wonderful cock to give herself immense pleasure, and from the sounds he made, Rak enjoyed every bit of it, too. She’d had lovers before, after all,
no one
got out of the novitiate with their virginity intact. But Rak was different somehow. Better. And it wasn’t something she could quantify. His wings cupped about her, sliding against her own sensitive wingsails, and conscious thought ceased until an absolutely astounding climax shook her to her very core.

As she came back to herself, she realized a few things. First, no one had ever given her that much pleasure in a single go, ever. Second, it was their love that made it so exceptionally sweet. And third, Rak was still rock hard inside of her, and moaning almost nonstop in enjoyment…and tension.

She thrust her pelvis a few more times, and Rak continued to gasp and moan softly. She asked softly, “Are you close, my man?”

Rak squirmed beneath her. “M’lady…please. I must have permission…”