Traed's deadly look was enough
to give anyone pause.
The Familiar narrowed
his dual colored eyes, looking much like an irritated cat. "I know not of
children! What makes you think I would know what to do?"
Traed
strummed the fingers of his blade hand on
the book he had been reading. “See– to– it,
Rejar.” His voice was as cold as ice.
“Now.”
Rejar scooped Melody off
the floor. He held the babe straight out, as far away from him as he possibly
could. Familiar senses being what they are, his acute olfactory abilities were
starting to beg
for a quick, painless death
to end the misery.
He quickly thrust the
babe at his older brother-of-the-line.
Traed did not comply; he
coolly arched one eyebrow. "Did you not offer to look after her for
Lorgin?"
"Yes . . . but I thought
she would just sit and smile at me like she always does when I visit."
Like most females, Melody was enamored of the male Familiar. The baby usually
just stared at him with a dreamy-eyed look.
Traed shook his head and
rolled his eyes. The fool thought the babe would simply sit there staring at
him with a silly grin all night? The naivety of such thinking! He viewed Rejar
askance. "How is it that Yaniff claims you have within you the
wisdom needed to become a tenth-level
mystic?"
Rejar shrugged. He could
not argue with that line of thinking; he had often wondered it himself. Albeit
for different reasons. "Truly, it
is
a mystery, is it not?"
Traed could not believe
the Familiar was actually agreeing with him on anything– especially his
questionable assessment of himself. Since he conceded his faults,
there was no way to argue further with him on this . . .!
Hmmm, perhaps he
was
wise
beyond his years, Traed acknowledged. The child was still screaming and he had
effectively thrown the matter back on to him with his very own complaint.
As if sensing his
hesitation, Rejar, still holding Melody straight out, moved her slightly up and
down, as if offering him something he might want to have.
It was not as if Traed was
not fond of Melody, but under the current circumstances, the dour knight
thought it prudent to refuse the proffered package.
"Is not Krue
home?" Both sons knew that Krue doted on the child and would think nothing
of taking care of the task at hand.
Rejar shook his head.
"He is, but he is with Suleila in their private chambers. If you wish to
interrupt them, by then all means . . . "
Traed narrowed his eyes
on Rejar. To do so would surely mean sudden death. "I will remember this,
brother
,"
he snapped.
With that he reached
over and took the child from Rejar, holding her in the same outstretched
manner. As if she were a toxic miasma.
Rejar's blue and gold
eyes sparkled with mirth. "Ah, Traed, a scene for the ages. If only I can
adequately describe it to Lorgin later . . .
"
"Do so and die,
Familiar." With that dire warning, the man who had been described as
merciless stormed into the bathing chamber to 'fix' the messy problem.
Leaving his younger
'brother' laughing vociferously.
When Melody started
chortling happily at her soon to be clean state, quickly followed by Traed's
low voice gritting out,
"By Aiyah!"
, Rejar dropped onto the
chair, clutching his sides.
Trumping this dour
brother-of-the-line never got old.
Later that night, when
her thought processes were a bit clearer, Deana started wondering what
exactly
had happened between them earlier.
Her conclusion made her
a tad bit
ticked
at her husband. And there was no time like the present
to grab the “bull” by the horns. They were having a moonlit picnic under the
stars.
"You said the
Transference occurs only once.” She popped a small
izwa
into her mouth
closing her eyes in ecstasy as the sweet, sublime juice of the fruit hit her
tongue.
Lorgin crossed his arms
behind his neck and reclined on the krilli cloth. He had been expecting this.
"And so it does," he answered her calmly.
"Then
what happened between us earlier?"
His white teeth flashed
in a grin.
“Other than that.”
"My powers are
increasing, Adeeann."
"
Increasing?
You
mean like what happened to Rejar'?"
He rolled onto his side,
facing her. "No. Throughout their lifetime, Charl can achieve higher
mystical levels, but only if they have such potential. My father is a
fifth-level mystic. It appears I might be one as well, eventually; although it
is not certain that is what is happening to me now. One or all of my
established powers may be increasing in strength. There is no way to know at
this juncture. We must wait until the change makes itself known."
"Can't Yaniff
tell?"
"Usually he can foresee
this. In some cases, though, he can only
see
the larger 'picture' of the
change not the smaller details. He knew what was occurring, but even he is not
sure which variables will arise."
"Alright, so your
power is increasing; I get that–
but what
exactly happened between us?"
"You might say I
leveled us off."
"You
what?"
"I
chose to augment the original Transference by
allowing the power spikes to flow freely
to you as they arose. In this way, you will also partake in the change that is
happening." He waggled his eyebrows. "At least as experienced through
intense and heightened satisfaction. Do you not love me for thinking of
this?"
Perhaps she should kill
him.
Leave
it to an Aviaran male to interpret one of their
ongoing
'talks' of them sharing things equally to his own
liking!
She was not falling for
it. She knew him too well. There was more to it.
Narrowing her gray eyes,
she crossed her arms over her chest. "What. Are. You. Not. Telling.
Me."
He stared at her
innocently, widening his beautiful lavender eyes. Jet-black lashes fanned over
the intermittent pink sparks.
Which was answer enough
for her.
He was definitely up to
something.
When she admonished his
macho arrogant knight self for not opening up to her more, she did not mean
this!
"And just how long
is this going to go on for?"
"For a long as it
takes." He shrugged. "The process cannot be rushed . . . or slowed
down, for that matter."
That new thought was
apparently appealing to him; his eyes gleamed.
Deana fumed. "Do
not even go there! You would actually try to slow down this process just so you
could make wild frenzied love to me every time you spiked?"
He raised an eyebrow.
Implying the concept was perfectly logical to him.
So, the change would
continue on this way until it was complete–
For however long it
took!
Years
maybe.
And he expected her to
go through
that
every time? No nice little quickies while the baby was
napping? She had looked forward to those. Now they would need a sound proof
forest–!
She
should
kill him.
Those arcs were
intense
.
Sextacular as all hell, but intense.
It was a little, should
she say,
arrogant
of him to decide to engage them in this kind of
lovemaking without asking her first. Not that she wouldn’t have agreed– but that
was not the point. Bloody warrior mentality!
"I never signed up
for this, mister!” She was boiling. “Those arcs are something else, let me tell
you, and I–"
"You never signed
up for anything that I am aware of, Adeeann; of what do you speak?" Lorgin
looked genuinely perplexed, which of course made her all the angrier.
Arghhhh!
She clenched her fists
and leveled a fulminating glare at him. He had the audacity to marry her
without telling her and to top it off, he had kidnapped her and brought her to
his world.
In another universe!
"Do. Not. Remind.
Me. Of. That." She gritted her teeth. "You are not helping your
cause."
He stroked his chin.
Best he come up with something other than wild lovemaking as a benefit.
"Our next child might benefit from this exchange." He chanced a look
at her.
Deana’s jaw dropped.
Yes, she
would
kill the big idiot. "
You didn't!
Not again.”
His deep laugh rolled
through her. "I have just given you a gift to make it possible. As always,
it is up to you,
zira
, to decide when to give that gift back."
After a Transference
with an Aviaran male, the
woman could choose
when to conceive. In her case,
it only took her
imagining
Lorgin’s
daughter and–
Bam!
Nine months later, Melody.
“It is too soon,” she
wailed. “Oh crappers, now I can't even think of it or else . . .
Argh!
"
She kicked his shin. He did not even blink.
"I vow, Adeeann,
you are the only woman in all of Aviara who has such difficulties. Not being
able to control your own thoughts . . . " He shook his head mockingly.
"Tsk, tsk tsk."
"I
reiterate; you are a rat."
He nuzzled her chin with
his nose. "Can I help it if just the
idea
of my child puts you into
such a
muddled state that you so
desire
to
think of it . . . "
"Rat.
Rat. Rat."
"He
would be perfect . . . "
"Stop it!"
"With
your eyes, I think . . . "
"I
don't hear you." She covered her ears.
"My color
hair."
"La,
la, la, la."
“It is rare to augment a
Transference. When it happens, the babe always receives something exceptional.
At the very least, his capacity for power, his potential will be increased. It
is up to destiny."
"Stop saying
he!" She swished her hands in front of her eyes, presumably to stop
herself from 'picturing' said 'he'.
Lorgin shrugged. He had
plenty of time to work on her. And every day he intended to paint a clearer
picture for her.
What made him most
irritated, however, was that Rejar had been right. She was not pleased with
him.
But she would be. He was
sure of it.
In time.
Maybe
a couple of years.
Years later, when
Lorgin's son finally came along, the Charl knight received his comeuppance for
being a bit too clever with his constant campaign.
Deana couldn't help but
giggle when he held his son up for the first time.
By whatever fates
decreed it, the babe did have
his shape and
color eyes as he had once suggested.
Except that–
The
child looked remarkably like someone else.
Grinning broadly, Lorgin
proudly held his newborn son up to his face. His smile slowly died.
Except for the eyes–
which were clearly his– the
dark-haired
babe resembled
Rejar
! It was uncanny!
Lorgin fumed. Of all
people to look like!
His brother.
"Why does he look
like
you,
Rejar?" he gritted out.
The entire family
laughed their heads off.
The
babe's facial features and dark hair
mirrored
Rejar's to a tee. Of
course, Rejar's features where much like Krue's, a fact that Lorgin overlooked.
The infant had stared
his father straight in the eye, returning his amethyst gaze. Giving Lorgin a foolish
little grin, he proceeded to shower him with a yellow stream.
It
was a portent of things to come for the hapless
father.
Unlike his sweet,
mindful daughter, this babe would never give his father a moment of peace. The
beautiful child was a handful from the minute he drew breath. The precocious,
mischievous boy would test Lorgin constantly and run him almost ragged until he
reached adulthood.
To
Krue's great amusement.
But it was Yaniff that
had the last laugh.
No matter how hard he
tried, Lorgin could never pinpoint the Lodarres in his father's line that had
black
hair.
Or such an impossible
temperament in his youth.