Lightfall, p.39
LightFall, page 39
Bracing my hands on the crumbling stone behind him, I took the length of him slowly within me, moaning at the delicious sensation, sweeter than any berry, more intoxicating than any wine. He groaned, his head falling back against the rock with a hollow thunk that made me giggle. The inadvertent motion settled me on his thick length to the hilt.
This time, he growled, a sound as atavistic and dangerous as any I’d heard from beast or demon. Only it thrilled me. Probably that was very wrong, but I was a nobody and he was the Dragon Prince, so who was going to tell us what was right in these impossible times?
I switched my hands from the wall to his shoulders, stronger than the crumbling stone, and hot beneath my palms. Grinding on the hard flesh of his erection, I sank my fingers deep into the muscles of his biceps. His hands ran down my flanks, settling an equally unyielding grasp on my bare backside, holding me fast, lifting me and dropping me again in a rhythm that sent sparks whirling through me in every auric color.
His grip was too strong, his breath sawing with need, his hips bucking unsteadily under me. But I didn’t care. It felt like more than I’d ever known, ever believed I might have. That first kiss, naked from the pool, I’d told him I wanted to forget, but this I wanted to remember forever. A prince of the realm, even a dreadmarked one, could’ve had anyone he wanted, and he’d chosen me. Of course I’d never forget.
I quickened the pace to match his frantic thrusts and reveled in the ferocity of his hold, clenching my inner muscles to make him gasp in surprise and need. “Since this is your first time, I’ll let you go first,” I told him through gritted teeth.
“Go?” He gasped. “No, I want to stay right here, with you…”
I laughed again, pulling him even deeper within so that we both groaned. “I mean take your pleasure first.”
“What kind of thief gives up the treasure?”
“One who fully intends to take it back three-fold,” I teased.
“Only three-fold?”
“I’ll take more next time.”
“Next time? What if I don’t survive this time?”
“It’ll give you a reason to fight harder.”
“I didn’t mean survive the demons, I mean survive you.” His hands sprang open, just for a moment, then settled again, framing my face as he stared up at me. His icy eyes were wide and silver with wonder. I felt like the king’s little blade drawing sparks from the mighty sword. I would make him burn.
I bent down to kiss him, thrusting my tongue past his parted lips to tangle with his, our hot breath mingling in the sound of our panting whispers, swallowed by the broken stone and a glimpse of the white sky above. As if that touch had thrown fuel onto his fire, he found a pounding rhythm, stroking all through me, jolting a hungry keen from my throat that made him growl again in possessive pleasure. His flesh swelled within me, an ecstatic piercing, and I shuddered around him as he groaned and pulsed upward into my intimate cavern.
And to my shock, my own release was only a heartbeat behind him, clenching tight as if I were about to fall—or he was. The convulsions rippled through me as I held on tight. He buried himself in my swollen flesh, teasing aftershocks of rapture from my trembling body. I arched back, gasping, and when I jackknifed forward again, he captured my lips in an unending kiss.
Limbs entwined, heartbeats synchronized, we slumped to the rough, broken floor of the old watchtower. With a touch more tender than any he’d used so far, Aric wrapped us both in his cloak. We huddled together as our breathing and his erection softened.
“We should go back,” I whispered. “Someone will be looking for us.”
“Yes, soon. But rest for a moment, while we can.” His arms tightened around me. “Feinan…”
“Aric.” I tightened my own grip. “This is enough.”
I thought he would crush all the air out of me, but the ferocity of his embrace felt so good. I ducked my nose under the edge of his jaw and brushed my lips very lightly against the place where his pulse still throbbed, and he shivered.
“What is this?” he murmured. “Not a blessing, not a devouring. Like both, but only ours.”
“A stolen moment. And perhaps all the more valuable because of it.” I kissed him again on the mouth. “Now close your eyes. I’m sure the shrieking will wake us when we’re needed.”
His silent chuckle rattled us, his breath gusting in my wayward hair—a crown of light, indeed—as he rested his chin against my forehead.
It wasn’t shrieking that roused me but crying.
The sound of broken, anguished weeping leaked through the stones like winter rain. Aric shuddered, and I glanced up in worry. But his scarred eyes were dry.
He looked down at me, his embrace tightening again.
“I thought it was you,” I whispered, hugging him back.
“Only where no one can hear.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then rose smoothly to his feet, lifting me with him and fastening the cloak tight around my throat. “This is probably not a better sign than shrieking.”
Poking my toes around in search of my trousers and boots, I shook my head in agreement. We left the meager shelter of the ruin. Though he didn’t touch me again, his looming presence was like a second cloak, heavy and protective.
While we were “resting”, more of the slow conveyances had straggled into Velderrey, plus a few of the fastest chariots had returned on their second trip retrieving the stragglers on their trek across the plain. For a moment, an unfamiliar pang of guilt twisted in me for not helping—but as we passed, even the most shocked and exhausted escapees flinched away from the Dragon Prince, and I remembered why he’d been exiled in the first place.
I glanced at him sidelong, but he didn’t react to their fear, just strode forward with his focus on one of the wagons.
It was like the cask wagon Lisel had led in, except instead of carrying much-needed supplies, it was laden with more nobles and others from the lightkeep. Some were being carefully guided down the ramp at the back—the sides were too high to clamber over—while others were just slumped where they’d been crushed within.
As we approached, one of the yaxen collapsed in its traces, dragging its neighbor to the ground. The burden beasts lowed over the wailing, and I jumped forward along with several others to disentangle the depleted animals. I’d told Aric I wasn’t good with beasts, but I could do this much at least.
By the time we’d freed all the yaxen—the crumpled one was obviously going to be supper—the wagon had been mostly cleared except for a few people standing in the box. Aric’s dark head was bowed above the others, so I hopped up to join him.
Lisel was there, and for a moment I was surprised she hadn’t come to assist with the yaxen. But then I saw why they were lingering.
The marshal was laid flat on one of the narrow benches that should have been holding supplies. He was a big man so he didn’t quite fit, but likely he’d been wedged in place by all the other bodies. And he was so still.
The marshal was dead.
Lisel stared down, her face blank. Then she swayed like the doomed yaxen.
I jumped forward to put my arm around her back, and to my gratitude, Aric took her other side since she’d inherited her father’s impressive stature, even if that was all she’d gotten from him.
I squeezed her. “Oh, Lisel. I’m so sorry…”
“Claeve. It was Claeve who struck him down,” a cracked voice offered.
It took me a long moment to recognize the speaker. “Imbril?” With a quick glance at Aric to make sure he had Lisel, I twisted to the far corner where the lor was huddled. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head, then nodded, then just stared at the marshal. “Not like…”
Letting that go for now, I crouched beside him. “What happened?”
“The demons were at the walls. I saw them crawling up the stones.” Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself. The fine gray silkha robe he’d donned in his penitence wasn’t nearly thick enough for the winter winds of Velderrey. “The king rode out—” He jerked straighter, eyes widening in panic. “Where is King Mikhalthe?”
“He’s here,” I soothed. “And he’s untouched.”
Imbril nodded, his gaze unfocused with shock. “I was in the haloric tower, and I saw the king and the marshal separated by the flood of demons swarming the outer bailey. I saw Claeve in their midst, scarlet in the black. He commanded them. The demons…flowed at his gesture, rushing and gibbering.” He shivered again. “They swarmed the marshal’s fighters, and when Vreas rode to the front, Claeve was waiting for him. They fought…”
“My father earned his title through his strength and strategy,” Lisel said, straightening abruptly. She yanked her arm out of Aric’s supporting hold. “He could not fall to one man.”
“One man and an army of demons,” I corrected.
After an assessing look, Aric took a step away from Lisel. “Seems Claeve knew the lightkeep’s defenses and its strongest fighters.”
I blinked. “Not the king?”
“Mikhalthe is more than just a fighter,” Aric said. “He has a different value.” He glanced away. “I fear the demons aren’t the worst we face.”
Before I could ask for clarification—although why I wanted to know how things were worse, I wasn’t sure—Dyania raced up the ramp into the wagon. “I just heard. Lisel…” She went to our friend and embraced her.
Taller though she was, Lisel bent to hide her blue eyes against the lady’s braids, and the rest of us looked away to give them that moment.
“Where is Kalima?” I asked Imbril quietly. “We were told you were with her.”
He slumped even deeper into his corner. “I was, at first. She’d left me in the temple to pray”—he glanced at me, eyes sunken, and I wondered if the prayers might’ve included a few more bruises—“but she came back just before the alarms. She told me the other lors were fleeing the High Keep, and that I should join them. But I thought…” He swiped one shaky hand across his eyes, as if trying to clear his vision—or make sense of his memory. “Of course I wanted to stay and fight for our home, for the Living Lands, as I knew the rest of you would be doing.” He glanced up at us, his gaze uncertain. “I didn’t realize everyone had already left.”
I bit my lip, unsure what to say. The stuffy little lor had thought to become a mighty warrior because of the rest of us? But none of us have been able to do anything. “You were brave to want to try,” I told him, uncertainty making my voice sound faint, not a usual problem of mine.
He gave me a wry look. “Names aren’t listed in history books for trying.” The hint of amusement faded. “And now I will never be a noted historian either, since I am telling this all out of order.” He let out a shuddering breath. “But there are other reasons for naming. I fear the numinlor has lied to us.”
I straightened in shock, as did Dyania and Lisel across the empty wagon.
Aric just narrowed his eyes. “Tell us.” The command was even colder than the winter wind.
Imbril shook his head even as he answered, as if he couldn’t believe his own words. “When I said I would stay, she told me we only had one chance to save the Living Lands. I knew she didn’t mean you”—he glanced at Aric—“or the king, so of course I was hopeful… And maybe curious too. I followed her to the forbidden halls of the haloric tower, and she took me to a locked room with a foul pool.” When I made inadvertent little sound, he paused to gaze at me inquiringly, but went on when I shook my head. “Kalima already has luminarci.”
Even Aric looked askance at this unexpected news, and I let out a startled oath. “What? But I found nothing beyond the locked doors.” In that instant, I realized… “Those three columns with the chains.” I quickly described the forbidden haloric hall, empty except for the filthy pool, or so I’d thought at the time. “Those were luminarci?”
“As she told me.” Imbril exhaled a broken breath. “After standing in Ormonde’s library and telling us that those stories meant nothing.”
Remembering the nacreous glow within the crystalline columns I’d thought was captured sunlight, my heart sank like a stone dropped in that nasty stagnant water. I’d been standing alone amidst distilled auras, of how many I didn’t even know.
Like a secret Devouring.
“I was right there at the haloric pool—and I missed it. I thought a luminarca would be something I could take.” Groaning in dismay, I wrapped both hands around the back of my neck. “I am a terrible thief. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault, Fei,” Dyania soothed. “And even if you’d known, you couldn’t have pocketed three crystal pillars. But why did Kalima keep it from us? Or not us, maybe, but the king. If we were all looking for another way that didn’t include the Dragon Prince, why would she hide it away?”
Imbril clenched his hands in front of his heart: not a prayerful stance, a defensive one. “I…asked that, then she struck me again, said we didn’t have time for my upstart arrogance.”
I gritted my teeth. I might’ve had my frustrations with the fussy little lor, but a liar like Kalima did not have that right. “What did you do? Did you hit her back?”
He slanted a look at me, managing to still look disapproving despite his dishevelment and devastation. “No. I ran away.”
I gave him a sympathetic nod, and Dyania, who still had her arms around Lisel, let out the tiniest, most delicate snort.
“I thought I should find you,” he said, glancing among us. “But by then, it was all chaos. From the promenade terrace, I saw Claeve at the inner gate. So I kept running.” He wrapped his arms even tighter around himself, leaving indelible wrinkles in the sanctified silkha of his robe.
I pitied the righteous little lor and myself and the rest of us. It was one thing to know that my betters had never cared for my plight in the alleys of Sevaare. To find out that the holiest one in the Living Lands had kept us all in the dark was a wretched shock. “Maybe…” I tried to strengthen my voice when it shook like my knees. “Maybe she had a reason not to share with us. Maybe she has a trick up those white sleeves, a way to use the luminarci against Claeve and his demons.”
Seemingly unmoved by the numinlor’s perfidy, Aric shook his head. “This must be why Claeve wanted the High Keep. Somehow he has been aiming the horde, perhaps as I do with the dragon, but if the luminarci in the white tower are as significant as you say…” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, as if this were all an ancient tale we’d found in some dusty scrolls. “I could never match that, not even with a Devouring.”
Despite the impassivity of his tone, I gazed at him, troubled. “The dragon is mightier than any number of demons,” I objected. “You’ve fought waves of the horde so many times and won. You could face Claeve and defeat him.”
Aric didn’t look back at me. “With no way to call the dragon? No way to control her? The auric leash from old Feasts is all but gone. I have nothing left.”
I clenched my fists. “The numinlor vows to protect our auras just as the king protects our lightkeeps. Why did Kalima say the auguries had called for a Devouring if not to empower you?”
Imbril bowed his bare head toward his upraised knees, not quite collapsing. “What if she never truly intended to allow the Devouring to continue? Not for the dragon anyway.” He raised his eyes to the prince, made almost bold in his resignation. “The horde attack in Velderrey unbalanced the auras for a Devouring, but the auras of the Chosen could’ve still been added to the luminarci.” His wandering gaze fixed on Dyania. “Along with your attendants and any others Kalima chose, since the distillation would’ve cleansed any impurities.”
We were all silent until Lisel, in a grief-cracked voice, asked, “If the prince has lost the dragon, and the numinlor herself has no faith left, what chance do we have?”
Dyania straightened, tossing back her braids, which were looking a bit frayed without Zik’s smoothing fingers. “The rest of the haloria is here.” She nodded decisively at Imbril. “Gather them. Tell them what you told us. And then choose another numinlor.”
From his huddle in the corner, Imbril stammered, “But…why would they listen to me? I sat at the very end of the haloria.”
Standing closer to the rumpled lor, the prince reached down a hand. “The end becomes the start when you change direction.”
Imbril stared at the outstretched offering like it was a sword of five edges, then he let out a breath and allowed the prince to pull him to his feet. Despite the exhaustion that dulled his eyes with smudged shadows, the lor did not sway, whether to obey the lady or avoid leaning on the dreadmarked prince maybe didn’t matter.
“You don’t need a sword to fight for the Living Lands,” Aric said. “Take the haloria in hand, and I will tell the king about Kalima.”
Imbril’s anxious expression only tightened, setting the fraught lines deeper in his brow beneath the bleached fringe of his hair. “I will do what I can with the others, but I fear…I fear some of them would have chosen to follow Kalima.”
“We need to know that too.” Aric waved him along.
But as Imbril passed me, I grabbed his arm. “Wait. There’s blood on your robe. You said you weren’t hurt.”
He looked down at his side, smeared with a hue like the rust that weakened a blade. His hand hovered over the stain, but to my surprise, he didn’t panic. “It’s not mine.” He turned his hands over in front of him, studying the marks there. “At least I don’t think it is.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped down from the wagon box and strode away in search of his fellow lors.
Lisel glanced one last time at her father. “My brother would have taken up his sword. Ah, this hurts.” She turned away, letting go of Dyania. “I need to find his other captains.” She followed Imbril.
Ani started after her, biting her lip, eyes worried. She glanced at me. “Will you go with Prince Aric to the king?”
I nodded. “And you with Lisel. For all the good it will do. But we’ll find each other later.”
She reached for my hand and squeezed it before hurrying after our hartier.
