King of Sword and Sky
Page 61
A loud splash interrupted him before he could ask. Steli had entered the water and was paddling beside Ellysetta's ledge, snorting sprays of water. Ellysetta gave a tiny scream of surprise that broke into laughter, and she swept her arm across the water's surface to direct a retaliatory splash back at the playful tairen.
Steli's play surprised Rain. The tairen of the Fey'Bahren pride had never offered Sariel anything but aloof disregard and tolerance, yet here was Steli treating Ellysetta like a tairen kitling. Even without hearing Ellysetta's song, Steli and the others accepted her as one of the pride.
Fahreeta leapt into the water, sending a massive splash arcing though the air. The golden tairen gave a crowing roar of victory as her wave swamped both Steli and Ellysetta, then dove beneath the surface as Steli gave chase. Ellysetta watched, laughing.
Rain turned back to Sybharukai, intending to continue their conversation, but the makai of the Fey'Bahren pride had risen to her feet and was padding down towards the rim of the lake. «Enough talk, Rainier-Ems. Time for play.» With an impressive roar, Sybharukai jumped in. The rest of the pride soon followed, and within moments, the lake was filled with wet, playful tairen.
Knowing he would get no more answers today, and unwilling to be left out of the pride's fun, Rain stood up, stripped off his leathers, and dove smoothly into the warm, clear waters to join them. Merdrahl and Cahlah were gone, but their suffering was over. The Fire Song had awakened a sense of joy and renewal in them all, and he, like his tairen family, could spare time for a little happiness before resuming the battle with the darkness that threatened them all.
Celieria City ~ The Royal Palace
Lady Jiarine Montevero, lady-in-waiting to Celieria's Queen Annoura, leaned closer to the clear glass mirror and dabbed a thin layer of fresh white powder over the dark circles beneath her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well since the disappearance of Queen Annoura's Favorite, Ser Vale— the sinfully handsome, vivid-eyed courtier Jiarine knew and served as Kolis Manza, the Elden Mage to whom she had surrendered her soul in return for wealth, power, and noble advancement.
Eleven days without sleep—worrying not so much about Master Manza's fate as her own—was beginning to show on her face, and she could not afford for that to continue. Queen Annoura of Celieria did not tolerate less than perfection amongst the Dazzles of her inner court. Ser Vale might return, and he would not be pleased if she'd lost her increasingly favored position in Annoura's inner circle due to something as foolish as lack of attention to her appearance.
Jiarine pinched her cheeks, then deftly added a blushing hint of color from a pot of pink powder. She was wearing her hair its natural dark color today. She'd just received word that the queen was feeling peevish this morning. When that was the case, her inner court knew to abandon their hair powders and choose rich, dark shades of clothing, the better to set off the queen's silvery pale beauty and improve her mood.
Muttering a curse, Jiarine kicked the hem of the pale blue gown she'd already put on, then removed this morning. "Fanette!" she called to the young lady's maid she'd sent into the next room to press her deep sapphire gown. "Hurry up with that gown, girl! Her Majesty does not tolerate tardiness."
Turning back to the mirror, she reached down into the cups of her tightly laced corset and plumped her br**sts so the rouged ni**les peeped out over the lacy tops. She knew how to use her assets to the best advantage, and there were several influential lords who liked to see a hint of rose when Lady Montevero leaned their way.
If Master Manza didn't return, Jiarine had her own plans for advancement. Starting with becoming the next Lady Purcel. The old wheezer was rich as a king, and though his breath stank like a barracks privy and his lecherous hands loved to pinch and grope any young woman fool enough to walk within reach, she'd happily ride his withered old rod straight into his grave in return for access to his coffers and control of his lands. Besides, he was so old, it wouldn't be hard to arrange a timely death for him in the event frequent and enthusiastic copulation didn't do the trick. And thanks to that weave-driven night of lust two weeks ago, Purcel had already sampled Jiarine's wares and knew they were to his liking.
The bedchamber door opened. "Finally! What in the Dark Lord's name took you so—" Jiarine's voice broke off at the sight of the two unfamiliar men who stepped into the room. She grabbed the first thing within reach—a cushion—and held it to her chest. "Who are you? How dare you! Get out this instant!"
Both were dressed as nobles, but she had lived at court for the last three years and recognized neither of them. The taller of the two was a handsome, lean man with forest green eyes. The shorter one was built like a barrel-chested longshoreman from the wharf. His pale blue eyes, surrounded by stubby black lashes, swept over her with undisguised interest.
When neither man obeyed her command to leave, she raised her voice and screeched, "Fanette!"
"Silence, umagi." The tall one spoke, his voice a cold commanding hiss that slapped her like a brisk, hard hand across the face.
Jiarine froze and fell silent. Every drop of blood drained from her face as the skin above her left breast turned cold as ice. Streams of glacial cold spread quickly through her body. Oh, gods. Something had happened to Vale. Her lips trembled. Her fingers clenched tight around the pillow. The question burst out before she could censor it. "Where is Ser Vale—Master Manza?"
"I said be silent," the tall Mage snapped. "You may speak only when I give you leave."
Steli's play surprised Rain. The tairen of the Fey'Bahren pride had never offered Sariel anything but aloof disregard and tolerance, yet here was Steli treating Ellysetta like a tairen kitling. Even without hearing Ellysetta's song, Steli and the others accepted her as one of the pride.
Fahreeta leapt into the water, sending a massive splash arcing though the air. The golden tairen gave a crowing roar of victory as her wave swamped both Steli and Ellysetta, then dove beneath the surface as Steli gave chase. Ellysetta watched, laughing.
Rain turned back to Sybharukai, intending to continue their conversation, but the makai of the Fey'Bahren pride had risen to her feet and was padding down towards the rim of the lake. «Enough talk, Rainier-Ems. Time for play.» With an impressive roar, Sybharukai jumped in. The rest of the pride soon followed, and within moments, the lake was filled with wet, playful tairen.
Knowing he would get no more answers today, and unwilling to be left out of the pride's fun, Rain stood up, stripped off his leathers, and dove smoothly into the warm, clear waters to join them. Merdrahl and Cahlah were gone, but their suffering was over. The Fire Song had awakened a sense of joy and renewal in them all, and he, like his tairen family, could spare time for a little happiness before resuming the battle with the darkness that threatened them all.
Celieria City ~ The Royal Palace
Lady Jiarine Montevero, lady-in-waiting to Celieria's Queen Annoura, leaned closer to the clear glass mirror and dabbed a thin layer of fresh white powder over the dark circles beneath her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well since the disappearance of Queen Annoura's Favorite, Ser Vale— the sinfully handsome, vivid-eyed courtier Jiarine knew and served as Kolis Manza, the Elden Mage to whom she had surrendered her soul in return for wealth, power, and noble advancement.
Eleven days without sleep—worrying not so much about Master Manza's fate as her own—was beginning to show on her face, and she could not afford for that to continue. Queen Annoura of Celieria did not tolerate less than perfection amongst the Dazzles of her inner court. Ser Vale might return, and he would not be pleased if she'd lost her increasingly favored position in Annoura's inner circle due to something as foolish as lack of attention to her appearance.
Jiarine pinched her cheeks, then deftly added a blushing hint of color from a pot of pink powder. She was wearing her hair its natural dark color today. She'd just received word that the queen was feeling peevish this morning. When that was the case, her inner court knew to abandon their hair powders and choose rich, dark shades of clothing, the better to set off the queen's silvery pale beauty and improve her mood.
Muttering a curse, Jiarine kicked the hem of the pale blue gown she'd already put on, then removed this morning. "Fanette!" she called to the young lady's maid she'd sent into the next room to press her deep sapphire gown. "Hurry up with that gown, girl! Her Majesty does not tolerate tardiness."
Turning back to the mirror, she reached down into the cups of her tightly laced corset and plumped her br**sts so the rouged ni**les peeped out over the lacy tops. She knew how to use her assets to the best advantage, and there were several influential lords who liked to see a hint of rose when Lady Montevero leaned their way.
If Master Manza didn't return, Jiarine had her own plans for advancement. Starting with becoming the next Lady Purcel. The old wheezer was rich as a king, and though his breath stank like a barracks privy and his lecherous hands loved to pinch and grope any young woman fool enough to walk within reach, she'd happily ride his withered old rod straight into his grave in return for access to his coffers and control of his lands. Besides, he was so old, it wouldn't be hard to arrange a timely death for him in the event frequent and enthusiastic copulation didn't do the trick. And thanks to that weave-driven night of lust two weeks ago, Purcel had already sampled Jiarine's wares and knew they were to his liking.
The bedchamber door opened. "Finally! What in the Dark Lord's name took you so—" Jiarine's voice broke off at the sight of the two unfamiliar men who stepped into the room. She grabbed the first thing within reach—a cushion—and held it to her chest. "Who are you? How dare you! Get out this instant!"
Both were dressed as nobles, but she had lived at court for the last three years and recognized neither of them. The taller of the two was a handsome, lean man with forest green eyes. The shorter one was built like a barrel-chested longshoreman from the wharf. His pale blue eyes, surrounded by stubby black lashes, swept over her with undisguised interest.
When neither man obeyed her command to leave, she raised her voice and screeched, "Fanette!"
"Silence, umagi." The tall one spoke, his voice a cold commanding hiss that slapped her like a brisk, hard hand across the face.
Jiarine froze and fell silent. Every drop of blood drained from her face as the skin above her left breast turned cold as ice. Streams of glacial cold spread quickly through her body. Oh, gods. Something had happened to Vale. Her lips trembled. Her fingers clenched tight around the pillow. The question burst out before she could censor it. "Where is Ser Vale—Master Manza?"
"I said be silent," the tall Mage snapped. "You may speak only when I give you leave."
