Protector of the Flight (19 page)

“Yes,”
Clua said. “It’s a lovely place to sit.” She swept a hand to a cushioned seat
under a window made of tiny glass diamond panes leaded together—so old they
were tinted by the sun and showed a wavery view.

“Nice,”
Calli forced from her lips.

“Now
it is definitely time for Calli to imbibe the drink.” Thealia crossed her arms
and nodded to Clua.

“Let’s
take a look.” Marian drew close to Shieldmarshall Clua and peered down at the
drink. So did Tuckerinal. “It’s fine,” Marian said.

Sit,
said a serene
voice in Calli’s head, Sinafinal. Calli looked down to see a beautiful calico
cat—one that reminded her of a barn cat who’d lived in the ranch stables when
she was a child. Calli went to the window seat and sat. She glanced out and saw
a terrace and people moving on it.

“The
old Great Hall is crammed!” said a new voice. It was the young woman, Marwey,
Alexa’s assistant. “There are three long tables full of items for Calli to
Choose.”

Oh,
God.

“Drink.”
Now Clua was before her, offering the goblet.

Calli
looked down into the silver cup. It bubbled with more than champagne. It
sparkled, too. Magic.

Alexa
leaned a shoulder against the wall, eyebrows raised. “Now or never.”

Marian
sat beside Calli, patted her hand. “It’s the best potion we could brew.”

The
cat Sinafinal hopped onto Calli’s lap, weighing much less than a real cat.
Calli tangled one hand in her soft fur. The calico’s marmalade and black-and-white
coat stood out against Calli’s glittering dress. She drew in a deep breath,
settled herself. This is what she wanted. Take a chance. Win
all.

She
grasped the goblet and drank.

14

“W
hat do I want?”
Marrec repeated Lady Hallard’s question. He wanted many things. Mostly to be
back in the Great Hall with all the rest of the panting crowd. He cleared his
throat. “Like you said earlier, a person must try and get ahead in life. I
intend to take more risks on the battlefield, claim all my kills.” Negotiating
with assayers’ offices, hustling, hustling, hustling, like a damn shopkeeper.
“With regard to the new policy, I’d like permission to fly to all the battles,
not only the ones you fight.”

“Hmm.”
She rubbed her chin. “You’re talking about the new rotation the Marshalls
posted. It’s for everyone’s own good. More likely to get yourself killed if you
go out for every battle. Tired. Not paired.”

He
flinched. Who would pair with a penniless man?

She
didn’t seem to notice. “We have more Marshalls, more Chevaliers, are training
new classes all the time. A rotation is possible.”

She
sounded as if she’d made that very argument to the Marshalls. Who’d fought for
the idea, who hadn’t? He wouldn’t care, but it affected him—as did all the new
faces at the Castle, the new Chevaliers and Marshalls. With so many, there
would certainly be more maneuvering for power.

The
door to the hall opened and Marwey walked in. For a moment Marrec was
distracted by the teenager. Just the sight of her made him recall something
that should stay in the front of his mind: the nexus of Power would center
around the Exotiques.

Lady
Hallard’s eyes hooded. “I value you, as you should know. My Master of the Horse
is getting on in years. I don’t want to see him fall on the field. I’d like to
retire him and promote you.”

His
gut tensed and mind went a little dizzy with the opportunity spreading before
him. He hadn’t thought that she regarded him more than anyone else. He gulped.

“Excuse
me,” Marwey said. “May I have your knife?”

Absently,
he unsheathed it and handed it to her, then turned back to Lady Hallard. As
Master of the Horse, he would be second in command to her. He’d have to give
her only a quarter of his take. He’d have his own cottage on her estate.
“Shouldn’t Seeva be Master of the Horse?”

Lady
Hallard waved a dismissive hand and raised her brows. “She’s well enough off
managing Horseshoe Hall. Surely you don’t think I’d put a Chevalier trainee in
charge of the rest of my men and women?” Lady Hallard had used a lot of
influence to have Seeva appointed to her current position. It made him wonder
if she worried about her daughter fighting in the field.

“I’ll
think—” His words were lost as a group of Chevaliers flowed out onto the
terrace. One of them was the very man Lady Hallard had been speaking of, her
current Master of the Horse, Yan, followed by Seeva. The two joined them, Yan
walking with a limp as if his joints had stiffened again.

Lady
Hallard spoke, “Yan, I’ve told Marrec of our plans.”

The
man’s face cleared. “He’s willing?”

“You
truly want to retire?” asked Marrec at the same time.

Yan
glanced around at the increasing number of people. “The fence posts continue to
fall, more horrors invade and more often, but we are building an army.” He gave
a little sigh. “I will miss the action, but the odds are shortening that I’d
survive the next year or so.” He lifted a shoulder. “We’ll be going all out
against the Dark, maybe even going on the offensive…”

Lady
Hallard opened her mouth, but Yan’s hand stopped her. Marrec envied that. Would
he be able to make her listen, too?

Continuing,
Yan said, “The word in the Castle is that we’ll be finding the Dark and
attacking.” He rubbed his hands. “I’d like to be in on the planning of it, but
not the fighting. Bound to be the bloodiest, hardest fighting in generations,
these next years.” He nodded at Marrec. “You think about it, too.”

Marrec
started to reply, when he felt the soft brush of fingers trail over his cock,
accompanied by an alluring Song he couldn’t catch but strained to hear. He shot
straight from his casual stance, looked around, though no one was within reach
of his groin except Hallard and Yan and their hands were in plain sight. He
shrugged off the sensation, dragged his attention back to the discussion. His
promotion to the top of Lady Hallard’s ranks. Right.

“I’ll
think it over.” He always did. “And I thank you for the honor and believe I’ll
ag—” His privates were squeezed.

He
gasped.

Seeva
narrowed her eyes. “It’s the Choosing!”

“What?”
asked Lady Hallard. She touched her pocket, swore. “Forgot to put my item on
the table.”

Shrugging,
Seeva said, “It was obvious within a minute that the Exotique had no attraction
to women’s tokens. That’s why most of us came out here. Still hanging around to
see what happens and witness the Bonding ritual.”

This
time the invisible fingers were less tentative, they firmly stroked his
erection. The top of his head might just blow off. He wiped an arm across his
forehead. Suddenly the nice summer evening had become hot, hot. One last slide,
up and down, had him staggering.

An
impish smile curved Seeva’s lips. “I suppose we can imagine what is happening
to you. What gift did you put on the table?”

“Marwey,”
Marrec said, fumbling in his tight pocket for the stone he’d planned to place
on the table. Too late. Too damn late!

“Breathe!”
ordered Lady Hallard.

He
sucked in a breath, deeper than the shallow pants he could only manage when her
fingers,
the Exotique’s hand,
touched…“My knife.”

“Very
appropriate shape, I think,” Seeva choked out. All three of them, Lady Hallard,
Yan and Seeva, laughed.

Lady
Hallard slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll miss you, boy.”

“Not
Chosen yet,” he mumbled.

The
fingers were back, running up and down his cock…the hilt of his knife,
probably. A wet tongue touched the tip of him. By. The. Song. Pure fire sizzled
through him, his flesh swelling until his breeches were tight. One more long,
squeezing caress, one more touch of that tongue and he’d be done for.

“Make
way,” Seeva called, giving him a little push between the shoulder blades. “Get
in
there, you fool.” A path opened before him, more than one glance going to his
flushed face, his straining trousers.

Fingers
curled gently around his balls and any hint of embarrassment fled in a
firestorm of need. He stumbled forward, tripped over the tiny threshold between
terrace and hall and was pushed upright by rough hands. “Watch it,” someone
growled.

He
couldn’t watch anything. He bumped against the wall and leaned his shoulder on
it, panting. His gaze went straight to the Exotique.

The
sight of her stunned him. She glowed like the sun, her hair already the spun
gold of great Power, not needing to age into that color. She set down his knife
she’d been holding in front of her face and he was profoundly grateful for the
relief.

The
red mist of lust thinned and he saw why people had streamed onto the terrace.
Three long tables held a multitude of offerings, but the
Exotique—Calli!—hovered in the middle of the one closest to him, ignoring
everything on the other two.

Four
tokens were jumbled in front of her: his knife, some purple velvet cloth, an
object he stared at but couldn’t identify and a golden ring.

She
blinked and blinked again, her pupils so dilated her eyes looked black with
only a brilliant rim of blue. Blue eyes. Blue dress. By the Song, she looked
amazing in that dress, a dress that was cut like no robe he’d ever seen.
Exotique maybe, like her. So gorgeous. So stunning. So special.

He
had a chance to Pairbond with her and the thought nearly stopped his heart.
Surely this was the most fabulous, most fantastic experience of his life.

She
swayed and he wanted to run and steady her. Protect her. He strode a few paces
forward; his foot crossed a force line and he hopped back, toes curling with
shock in his boots. She was well protected from her suitors. He prowled back to
the side of the room.

Alexa
and Marian stood on either side of Calli, steadying her. Marian indicated the
knife, swept a hand toward Marrec.

“About
time,” Alexa said.

He
showed her his teeth. More than lust boiled through him. Need. Yearning.

He
glanced to a side table where there was another goblet—another aphrodisiac for
her mate. Along with sharp knives and strips of pure white silk to bind arms
together.

A
growl snagged his attention and he looked to his right. Faucon Creusse sent him
a feral glance.

Marrec’s
ardor cooled so fast he felt the chill of sweat on his body. Unlikely he’d be
able to prevail against the rich and noble and Powerful Faucon. But Marrec
stood straight, gave the man a polite nod. He’d be Master of the Horse for Lady
Hallard, then. With that, he could aspire to having his own land in a few
years, if the fates were kind.

His
woman whimpered. Everything else faded. The lilting Song emanating from her
wrapped around him like the strongest rope, trapping him, ready to be pulled in
at her whim.

Calli’s
fingers fumbled at the purple velvet cloth. She picked up a floppy hat, stroked
it, and a groan tore from Faucon. What sort of token was a floppy hat! Some
effete thing only Faucon could cherish. Marrec sneered at the man, then felt
unexpected sympathy as he saw Faucon’s shoulders brace against the wall. A
trickle of sweat ran from the man’s temple. Cords stood out in his neck. With a
little approving hum, Calli rubbed the nap of the hat, lifted it to her face and
stroked it against her cheek.

From
the corner of his eye, Marrec saw Faucon’s body ripple with shudder after
shudder.

“Is
that what you want, Calli?” Marian asked. Marrec didn’t know how he knew the
foreign words she spoke, perhaps because Calli knew them and they still had a
connection, his knife was still before her, with the two other tokens.

“Maybe,”
Calli said, voice thin.

Now
Marrec could see the toll the drug took. A faint sheen of sweat covered every
inch of bare skin he could see, enhancing her glow. Her face was pinker than he
recalled, her eyes blacker. Her nipples had hardened into nubs.

“Maybe,”
she said again. Calli held the hat in one hooked finger. Faucon had stopped
shuddering, pushed against the wall he’d slid down and stood straight, shaking
out his limbs. His gaze fastened on Calli.

She
slipped the ring up and down her finger and a new Chevalier Marrec had briefly
met fell to the floor and arched, letting out a long moan of release. Calli
stared at him, made a moue and set the ring aside.

Marrec
and Faucon shared a glance. The woman wanted stamina and control. Marrec wiped
sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Faucon grinned fiercely.

“The
little snot,” Koz said. Marrec didn’t recognize the word. One of those Exotique
Terre phrases. Did Koz have all the advantage, being mostly Exotique himself?
An Exotique soul in a Lladranan body? Merde.

Calli
picked up a gray metallic circle that looked like steel, but finer, stronger
than Marrec ever had seen. It dangled a little charm that was completely
unrecognizable. She smiled, toyed with the charm. Koz jerked straight, his head
knocked back as if someone had struck him in the jaw.