Llewellyn’s Song Page 7

  The rest of the route was easier. It was mostly downhill, and the routes and passes were all open. And then one morning they awoke to the sound of hoofbeats. Tamara still couldn’t stop her reflex of hiding in Llewellyn’s strong arms whenever strangers approached, and she was grateful for the fur cloak that covered her head and face—a royal gift from the king of the ice demons, Frostbone. Each had received a fur-lined woolen cloak. Llewellyn’s was black and dark green on the outside with black fur, and hers was blue and silver with pale gray fur.

  Llewellyn raised his arm in greeting, and his voice rang with joy. “Merlin! Sebring!”

  The two men were wood elves, with russet hair cut short around their well-shaped heads and bright green eyes. They flung themselves off their steeds and ran to Llewellyn, one taking him in his arms and hugging him before stepping back and giving him a shake. “Why did you leave without us!” he cried.

  “Merlin, this is Tamara. My wife.”

  Tamara had the satisfaction of actually seeing someone’s jaw drop.

  Merlin bowed over her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Tamara Fairnight. My name is Merlin, and this is my twin brother, Sebring.”

  Sebring bowed as well, and kissed her hand.

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Tamara, bemused by their courtly manners. They must be from King Branagh’s court, she thought, and their next words confirmed this.

  “We came as soon as we heard you’d been spotted. Branagh wants you at the court now. Yesterday. As fast as the horses can carry us.” Merlin laughed.

  “We didn’t know you were married, or we would have cleaned your house.”

  Tamara suddenly remembered where she’d heard their names. “You’re the queen’s brothers,” she said, suddenly shy again.

  “Yes.” Sebring gave her a blinding grin. “She will be so glad to see you, Tamara. You have no idea.”

  The thought that the queen would be glad to see her made her spirits lift.

  “Here, take our horses. We’ll ride double on the one we brought for you,” said Merlin.

  “I’ve never ridden,” Tamara balked when the horse was led up.

  “Well, that makes things easier. You ride with me. We’ll take the fresh horse,” said Llewellyn. He boosted her up and then swung on behind her. She rather liked the closeness. The charm evaporated after about an hour, when her buttocks screamed that under no circumstances would they take any more jolting. Her legs burned. Her stomach churned. But she clenched her teeth and said nothing until they stopped for the night. They had covered an amazing distance on horseback, she realized.

  She also realized that she was incapable of moving without screaming in pain.

  Llewellyn took one look at her and then carefully carried her to the fire, where he used his healing skills once again. This time for blisters, bruises and strained muscles.

  Merlin and Sebring helped sing the healing songs, and Tamara let her chi open and absorb their powers. The next morning she dreaded getting back on the horse, but Llewellyn said, “We’re almost there. By lunchtime we will be at the city gates. Hold on. I know this hurts, but you’ll get used to it, I promise.”

  “I will never sit on another horse as long as I live,” she swore.

  “Never say never,” said Llewellyn, and she knew he was right. If they rode to war, they would have to move swiftly. The thought was sobering. She was even more cowed when the city came into sight. It rose overhead, bigger than anything she’d ever seen. It dwarfed even the mountain it had been built upon, as row after row of houses and finally the castle rose into the air.

  They had come out of the forest and onto the plain. The city was built on a small mountain right in the middle of the plain, giving it height and protection. A river wound lazily around the base of the city, and Tamara could see bridges arching over the river and even some fishing boats sailing along it.

  There was a great wall encircling the city. They rode to the nearest gate, a huge wooden affair that lifted like a drawbridge. Now it was down, and the horses trotted over it, making far too much noise for Tamara’s liking.

  The whole city was too noisy. She cringed at the sight, and Llewellyn wrapped his arms around her tightly and crooned soothingly into her ear.

  “Don’t be frightened. We’ll soon be at the palace and I’ll find us a quiet room where we can rest.”

  “I’m not frightened, I’m never frightened,” she replied haughtily, but she had a hard time pretending she wasn’t quaking with fear. The streets were paved with smooth stone, there were trees lining them, and though it was winter, some of the trees still bore leaves. Fairy magic, she decided.

  There were fairies bustling about, and she was interested to see that they didn’t look too different from elves. They were finer boned and smaller than elves. Tamara thought the men were not as handsome as Llewellyn. They had lighter hair, mostly blond or light brown, and their skin was much fairer too. They dressed in all the colors of the rainbow, and the women had very low-cut bodices.

  The fairy women were exquisite, very petite, with intricate hairdos and makeup and clothes that bespoke many hours in front of a mirror. The children were smaller than elf children, and Tamara was amazed to see how beautifully they were dressed. Like little adults, she thought, watching a little girl and her mother strolling down the street. They even had pets on leashes—something an elf would never own. Even the elves’ horses didn’t wear bridles. Elves didn’t own animals, so when Llewellyn asked her what surprised her the most, she replied, “The dogs on the leashes.”

  There were shops galore, and that finally caught her attention. The displays of bright silks and gauzy dresses, gold and silver, and even the bakery and fruit and vegetable shops tempted her, as they had trays of wares set out right on the street. Red and yellow apples, oranges, kumquats, pears, grapes of all colors, huge melons and berries that glittered like jewels. And the rich scents coming from the bakery! Cinnamon, cardamom, garlic, honey, lemon, orange blossom and ginger all mixed with the warm smell of fresh bread. Tamara’s mouth watered painfully.

  “Can I have one of those?” she asked, leaning over and pointing at a hot cross bun. Her stomach rumbled. Llewellyn tossed the baker a coin and gave the bun to her. She bit into it and sighed with delight. “I think I’m going to like it here,” she said.

  He hugged her, and Sebring, who’d overheard, said, “Just wait until you have dinner at the palace. Melle used to work in the kitchen, and she still oversees the menus. I don’t know why Branagh isn’t obese.”

  “Because Melle makes him work it off in bed,” retorted Merlin.

  Tamara choked on her bun and Llewellyn guffawed. “If the king hears you you’ll be thrown into the dungeons for disrespect.”

  “Here we are,” said Tamara, looking up at the main gate of the palace. Two guards waved them through. She was nervous again, and worried that she had sugar all over her mouth and bun in her teeth. She wanted to make a good impression.

  “You look beautiful,” said Llewellyn, reading her mind. Or maybe it was the fact he’d caught her wiping her mouth on the hem of his cloak.

  Grooms came to take their horses—elf grooms, who knew horses—and Tamara followed Llewellyn into the palace, Sebring and Merlin at her heels.

  King Branagh was standing in front of his throne, waiting for them. Tamara thought he was very ordinary-looking. He had hair the color of dark honey that looked as if no comb could tame it, clear eyes the color of caramel—she was still hungry, she realized—and a crooked smile. His back was slightly crooked too, she saw, and he walked with a limp. His hand, when he reached out to shake Llewellyn’s, was scarred. He’d been in many battles. Here was a man whose looks were deceiving, Tamara decided.

  Next to him was a wood elf—Queen Melflouise. She was as tall as her husband and had the most tranquil expression Tamara had ever seen. Her eyes were green and cool, and as inviting as the depths of the forest on a sunny day. Tamara felt at ease with her right away. She didn’t dress like a fairy. She k
ept her simple elf garb, but on her it looked regal. Her dark red hair was cut short, and Tamara remembered hearing she’d been part of the elf militia—an archer, if she wasn’t mistaken. Short hair meant she’d fought. She kept it short, or had she cut it in anticipation of battle? Tamara felt a prickle of disquiet. Their visit was not a social one. She could feel the tension in the air.

  Then she heard the words, “This is my wife, Tamara,” and Llewellyn stepped back and left her standing alone in front of the King and Queen of Hivernia.

  Tamara dropped into a low curtsy, mindful of her manners.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you,” said the queen. She gave Tamara a beautiful smile. “I hope you’ll enjoy your room. I put you in a quiet part of the castle. I remember how hard it was for me to adapt to life at court.”

  “I can’t believe Llewellyn finally got married,” said Branagh, who patted Llewellyn on the shoulder and to Tamara’s surprise, came up to her and gave her a bone-crushing hug. “I owe your husband my life,” said Branagh, taking Tamara by the arm and leading her to a table set with a tea service. “I fought an ice demon and was pierced by an ice shard. Lucky for me, Llewellyn, Merlin and Sebring were in the area.”

  Tamara soon forgot her shyness as they had tea. The queen insisted she call her Melle, and the first time she’d called the king “Your Majesty”, he looked blank and then gave a wry laugh. “I still can’t get used to being called that. Please, call me Branagh. I can’t bear it when my friends use my title.”

  “You didn’t think you’d have to use it so soon,” said Melle with a sad smile.

  “True.” Branagh put his teacup down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Catching Melle’s look, he sighed and picked up a napkin. “I was a soldier all my life. And then a recluse and a ranger,” he explained to Tamara sotto voce.

  “Not exactly Mr. Manners, I’m afraid,” laughed Merlin. “But now that you’ve mentioned being a soldier, perhaps we can speak of what brings us all together.”

  Branagh nodded, his eyes suddenly flashing, and Tamara caught a glimpse of what made him king. “I have gathered my troops and they are waiting at my aunt’s keep, near the border. My cousins have their troops as well and are on the move. It’s the first time we’ve fought a winter battle, so most of the planning has involved supplies and fodder for the horses. That’s why we’ve taken so long.”

  Llewellyn gave them the news from Frostbone, and a deep silence settled over the table.

  Then Branagh shook himself and said, “That’s bad news. Behemoths are almost as bad as dragons. That said, at least they don’t fly or spit fire.” His fingers drummed on the table. “Llewellyn, I want you to stay with the healers. I fear there will be great need for your talents. Tamara, are you a healer?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m a scout. If you need me, I know all the routes through our land north of Bald Pass. I can find passages for your mounted troops.”

  “All right. I accept your services. You will be promoted to captain, and I will assign a group of scouts and messengers to you.” Branagh stood. “I have much to do before dawn breaks tomorrow. I would like to have the troops and supplies ready to move by the next full moon.”

  “Five days?” Melle sounded faint.

  “Yes. Your archer troops are ready. The mounted archers, under Sebring, are ready. Now I have a scout. If Tamara leaves tomorrow with her team, they can guide us to Frostbone’s territory faster than I’d hoped.”

  Tomorrow! Tamara felt her heart sink. She and Llewellyn were to be separated! She looked at Melle’s white face and realized that most of the couples living in Hivernia were about to be split asunder by the war. Some would never see their spouse again. The d’ark t’uath has had taught her the importance of duty and responsibility. She would not let Hivernia down.

  Llewellyn’s hand found hers beneath the table and they held tightly to each other. One more night together. And then, who knew when they would meet again? She did not worry for herself—a scout wasn’t in the midst of fighting. And Llewellyn would be in the healing tents. They would get through this, and then start their life together.

  “I was hoping to go home and do some cleaning,” said Llewellyn, giving Sebring and Merlin a dirty look.

  Branagh gave a short laugh, then shook his head. “I’m sorry about your honeymoon,” he said. “If it’s any comfort to you, Melle has given orders for dinner to be taken to your quarters. Why don’t you take Tamara to your rooms? I’m sure you would like some time alone together before daybreak.”

  Llewellyn was glad to get away. The look on Tamara’s face when she’d realized she had to leave the next morning had pained him. He’d said nothing though. She knew her own worth, and Branagh’s army was in desperate need of scouts who knew the lay of the land north of Bald Pass. Tamara was a godsend, and he could not begrudge her to his friend and king.

  The room—or rooms, rather, as it was an apartment—were as Melle promised—quiet. Set apart in the old part of the castle, they were not in the fashionable wing. The apartment had a small vestibule where they hung their cloaks, a bedroom with a fire already laid, and a bathroom with a copper tub and hot and cold running water.

  Llewellyn thought Tamara would appreciate that, but when he mentioned that she snapped at him, saying that the d’ark t’uath had hot and cold running water, thermal spring fed, and who did she think they were, barbarians?

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know much about your people,” he told her. After a minute, when she didn’t reply, he added, “You’re not going to like my house much. I have to go fetch my water from a well and heat it in the chimney. I suppose I’m the barbarian.”

  She kept her back to him, fiddling with the taps, running first the hot water and then the cold. Her back spoke volumes to him. It said, “I’m tired. I’m not happy. I’m not a barbarian. I’m pissed at you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She turned around and he saw he’d probably misread her. Again. Her face was pale and traces of tears marred her cheeks. “I’m not angry with you. I’m just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.” She bit her lip then blurted out, “We have hot and cold running water but our bathtubs are made of rock and they’re not half as luxurious as this.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” said Llewellyn, gathering her in his arms. “I was really afraid you’d hate our house.”

  She looked up at him. “You said our house. That’s the first time you’ve called it that.”

  “It sounds right, doesn’t it?” He had the absurd urge to laugh. It did sound right. His arms tightened around her, and she tipped her head up for a kiss. How could he resist? Somehow, in the middle of the kiss, they overbalanced and fell into the tub.

  The water wasn’t hot enough. Sputtering, Llewellyn pulled Tamara out and then, because she was laughing too hard to be of any help, he took her clothes off for her. He took his own off too. It was better when they were both nude, he decided. He pressed his body to hers. Her skin was so smooth and warm, and when they rubbed together he swore he could feel sparks. Her breasts brushed up and down his chest, and her nipples hardened. He closed his eyes, better to enjoy the sensation of her naked body against his. Their thighs pressed together and his cock, now hard, speared her in the stomach. She reached down and captured it in her hands, kneading and rubbing until his knees started to tremble. And then he caught sight of the mirror.

  The full-length mirror showed two elves, one in a definite state of excitement, standing on a pile of wet clothes.

  “Let’s go to the bedroom,” Tamara suggested. She glanced in the mirror and raised her eyebrows. “The possibilities are endless, I agree.”

  “If you get down on your hands and knees and turn this way, I think the view will be…”

  “Interesting. I’ve always wanted to see how I looked from the back and in the throes of an orgasm,” Tamara said. Somehow Llewellyn didn’t think she meant it.

  “You don’t have to look.” He was wondering how he could ge
t her on her hands and knees before he came all over her. His cock was so stiff he was afraid to touch it lest, like a popper-seed pod, it would explode. When he was young he’d liked playing with those seed pods. The gentlest touch made the pod burst apart and tiny seeds shoot forth.

  Now he knew what that seed pod felt like.

  Tamara knelt very slowly and gave a saucy wiggle with her buttocks. She put her chin on her shoulder to look over her back at the mirror and her eyebrows went even higher. “I didn’t know I was so sexy from this angle,” she purred.

  Llewellyn wanted to move, but he didn’t dare until he’d gotten better control of himself. Then Tamara spread her legs.

  “Look, I’m all wet,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

  She was. Her sex glistened. His cock gave a twinge. Llewellyn took a deep breath. Getting down on his knees behind her, he was careful not to look in the mirror. When he slid his cock into her passage, he couldn’t resist a glance to the side. A tall elf with an eye patch and rather unkempt, long black hair arched over a curvaceous elf with long dark hair and delightful breasts. As he watched, his hands crept up her sides and latched on to the breasts.

  “Oh, go gently!” she said. Then, when he thrust his cock into her, “Go harder!”

  He loved watching his cock slide in and out of her tight sheath. Things got more and more slippery and exciting. Her nipples brushing against his palms became hard little pebbles. Her back arched and she reached between her legs and touched his balls.

  “Gently,” he gasped. Her fingers massaged his balls in time to his thrusts, and in the mirror he saw that she was touching her own clit, rubbing her thumb against it.