Shared Between Them (12 page)

She quieted, finding that she didn’t really want them to know that she had never worn a dress before. She had spent her life pretending that she didn’t like them, mostly because she knew she would never get to buy one. Her family was too poor to buy clothes; what they had was what was worn by the idiots who had tried to fight the giant and had failed, and to date, no female had ever tried the feat. Thus, it hadn’t seemed like the garment was in her future.

“Damn,” Draevan swore to himself, looking about. “Now I can’t seem to find my belt…”

She rolled her eyes and lifted up a pillow, exposing the strip of leather under it like it was a snake lying in wait. “If you can’t keep track of it, then you should keep it in your pant loops,” she scolded, trying to hide her embarrassment of being so soundly spanked the night before.

Draevan gave a slight chuckle, then walked over and leaned over the bed to grab it. He pulled her long hair back from her shoulder just so he could nip her there with his white teeth.

“She’s got more color to her today,” Taric said, pausing to stare at her when Draevan was finally looping his belt back around his waist.

“All women get a little color to their cheeks after a morning with me,” Draevan replied to him with a shrug and a playful grin.

“Yes, well I did hear laughing’s good for one’s health,” she heard herself quip.

Upon Draevan’s hurt expression, she thought she was in trouble and pulled her knees up to her chest. Taric, however, doubled over and told Draevan, “Did you choose a good one, Cousin! She already knows how to push your buttons, eh?”

She still didn’t brave even smiling until Draevan cracked a grin, showing his white teeth and shaking his head. “It begins,” Draevan agreed.

She felt herself give a little relaxed sigh. She couldn’t help it; she was still slightly afraid of her husbands. One second they were brutes set out to spank her, humiliate her, and call her a slut, and the next they were sweet and ready to laugh.

She felt like she was dancing with a couple of hungry bears.

* * *

“
What do you say, Cousin
?” Draevan asked when they’d put out food for their elfling. The servants had refused, point-blank, to come into the room and serve her. It had been shocking, but their horror, which was like that of someone who had been ordered to serve a giant spider, was so sincere that Draevan and Taric were too stunned to get angry with them.

Poor Kyra looked at the banquet Draevan and Taric carried in from the hallway like they had set out precious jewels before her. It was pretty obvious that if the forest hadn’t provided it, then Kyra hadn’t ever eaten it, or had only done so rarely.

Taric looked back at Kyra, took in the sight of her eating with both hands, and turned back. “
I say if she keeps eating like that she’s going to explode.
”

Draevan lifted his eyebrows as if to say, ‘You know what I mean’.

Taric sighed. “
Oh, you mean the strange class-system the elves have and that Kyra seems to be settled impossibly low in the food chain? I don’t
agree
with it, if that’s what you’re getting at, but honestly it’s a system that’s not going to matter in another year
.”

“
Why do you say that
?” Draevan asked, a wrinkle of confusion appearing on his forehead.

“
Because the entire class of untouchables is being caught and executed—there’re barely any left. Our Kyra will soon be all that remains.
”

“
Are you saying all untouchables are thieves and poachers
?” Draevan asked, and Taric nodded with confidence, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “
Well, are they untouchable because they’re outlaws, or are they outlaws because they’re untouchable
?”

Taric sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck with his palm. “
I’m afraid it’s the latter. From what I understand, an elf would never hire an untouchable, never feed one or give one charity. If one uses a higher-born elf’s sheets, the sheets must be burnt. If they eat from one’s plates, the plate must be destroyed. They’re not allowed in schools, they’re not allowed in the kingdom. They spend their lives being hunted or avoided. All they’ve been able to do is eke out an existence.
” He shook his head. “
The poor thing
.”

Draevan nodded, but then his eyes widened with realization. “
No…
” he argued, putting up a hand. “
It’s fate
.”

Taric had to argue with this. If he left it up to Draevan, he’d say everything was fate.

“
Think about it
!” Draevan said, shaking his hand in front of him to silence Taric’s bickering. “
Our son won’t just be the greatest warrior destined to bring down the Dark Wizard, Taric. It’s
her
son that will do that… Even if we died and never got to raise our own son, or had to go into hiding, she could actually make the best of it. She’s a survivor, Taric.
” He shook his head and grinned. “
Fate brought us to her.
”

He watched any signs of worry of the future leave Draevan’s face just that quickly.

Taric furrowed his brow and shifted his eyes back and forth awkwardly. “
I think you’ve lost your mind
,” Taric finally admitted.

“
For
her,
I have
,” Draevan admitted with a grin on his face. Seemingly unconsciously, he rubbed at the tattoo on his wrist that sanctified their marriage to her. “
It’s like… It’s like there wasn’t women until her. There were just whores and wenches, pussy and ass. She’ll be the mother of our children, Taric. I can’t get over it
!” He suddenly crudely adjusted himself, as he always had done when there was a woman around he wanted to see naked. “
Makes me hard as a rock when I think about it, honestly
,” he grumbled. “
It’s hard to explain
.” He tried anyway, using only a single word, “
Primal
.”

Watching Draevan look adoringly at anything besides his war hammer or his sword was certainly a sight to be seen! And the thought of standing there and waiting for Draevan to describe feelings that he’d never felt before sounded painful at best. Taric slapped his cousin on the shoulder and said, “
I’m gonna stop you there before you’re spouting poetry
.”

Draevan pursed his lip as if annoyed for a moment and then gave him a playful shove. “
You entertain the missus. I’ll make sure we get packed up and provisioned properly for the journey home. I want out of here at first light.
”

Taric shrugged. “
What’s the rush? Don’t you want to honeymoon with our wife here for a while? We have a pleasant job to do, you know. I’d like to bring her home when she’s big enough to fall forwards.
”

Draevan laughed but shook his head. “
Do you really think the elves want us here another day now that they’ve paid what they owe us?
”

“
Of course not
,” Taric said, showing his palms to the ceiling. “
But pissing them off is half the fun. And it’s not like they’re going to force us out. Their feelings towards us are one-third admiration, one-third disgust, and one-third fear
.”

“
No
,” Draevan said decisively. “
It’s all fun and games, but we know too well what they think of our wife. How long until she gets spat on in front of us? And then what are we prepared to do about it?
”

Taric gave a nod. “
You’re right. It’s better to leave before something ugly happens.
”

“You’re so annoying when you’re obviously speaking in another language for the sole purpose of my not understanding you,” Kyra noted flippantly from the table as she cut into a slice of bacon. “Would it really be so bad cutting me in on the conversation? Time from time, I’m known to have an opinion or two.”

“I believe it!” Taric chimed, grinning at her. “We’ve decided to leave here at first light tomorrow morning.”

She swallowed loudly, then looked up to blink at them with a blank expression on her face. He didn’t know what to make of her mood, until she fretted, “Well, they’ll… They’ll just hang me as soon as you’re gone…”

“They probably would,” Taric agreed, “but that point is moot. You’re coming with us to the Northlands, of course. You’re our wife—if we have any say about it, you’ll be with us always.”

“We should probably get you measured for some clothing,” Draevan added. “As much as I hate to cover you up for a second, I don’t want any other eyes taking in the sights.” He grinned, apparently thinking his possessiveness was rather humorous. “And you can’t wear that bathrobe forever,” he gestured to the red silk robe she had closely knotted to her body.

“Good luck,” she scoffed. “You forget easily who I am and where you are. There isn’t a servant that would stand ten paces from me. I know this from experience. Besides,” she shrugged her shoulders, “my old clothes will do.”

“Your old clothes were threadbare,” Draevan argued, an edge appearing in his tone. “If you think it gets cold here, you’re in for quite a shock when we start to head north.”

“Well, I can’t wait then,” she grumbled, propping her elbow up on the table and resting her face against her palm.

“I’ll take care of it,” Taric promised Draevan, just as there was a knock on the chamber door. Taric straightened his shoulders and walked over to answer it. “You just keep your mind on the provisions and the horses.”

A servant of the king, a royal emblem stitched on his silk tunic, was at the door and gave a bow. “My Lords,” he greeted. “I come to invite you both to sup with the king this eve in order to honor your visit and your departing.”

“How’d you know we were departing?” Taric asked, wincing half his face with confusion.

“Oh,” the servant looked very pleased. “Oh, we didn’t at all. We just suspected that since… you have your promised bride, you’d soon want to be on your way.” In other words, the elves were now very interested in the humans leaving the kingdom now that they were no longer in their debt.

Taric gave a wry grin. “Well, you were correct. Send some clothing up for my wife, and we’d be happy to attend.”

The servant shifted his weight from leg to leg.

Taric sighed, and he and Draevan both stepped into the hallway, closed the door behind them, and crossed their arms across their chest. “Kyra is not invited, you’re coming around to say,” Taric gathered.

“It’s complicated,” the elf at least had the decency to sound half-way apologetic. “But no. The king hoped you’d come alone.”

Draevan knew that not abiding by the king’s invitation would be insulting to the king, not to mention that it wouldn’t help the politics between elves and humans. Yet still he said, “Well, then we’re not coming.” Draevan’s reply was terse, his eyes darkening.

The servant’s shoulders slumped. “My Lord, the king, was afraid you’d say that, and if that was the case, then you may bring your new…” he choked on the word, “wife.” The servant swallowed. “Although it’s highly irregular…”

Taric turned to Draevan. “
Shall we accept
?
I hate to say it, but it would be politic to go, and they want us there enough that they’re willing to at least pretend to get over their prejudice toward our elfling.
”

Draevan tilted up his chin, seeming to be sizing the servant up, possibly because the longer the servant stood there, the more uncomfortable the servant became. Draevan took his time to answer. “
We should
,” Draevan replied. “
I’m sure the king isn’t used to dining in the presence of higher life. Our wife will give birth to a great hero; what has their king done lately
?” With that, he walked off down the hallway, his large body dwarfing all elves in his path.

Taric gave a scathing sort of laugh at their host’s expense. Draevan was finding a more and more pompous way to view their bride every moment, it seemed. “We will attend,” he told the waif-like man who wavered on his legs. “Send up some clothing for our wife.”

“But—” the servant began to complain.

Taric walked back into the room and shut the door, drowning out whatever protest he would just ignore anyway. The elves, although they seemed to revere death, lacked any skill to bring it about. They weren’t strong, and their bodies were very like children’s, even the males. Their bones were more akin to a bird’s than like their own. They were easily intimidated and easily passed over.

When he walked into the room, he didn’t see Kyra right away. She wasn’t sitting at the table. For a moment, he thought she had gone invisible again and swore, turning to look for her in the adjoining room.

It wasn’t until then that he noticed a girl sitting on a sculptured bust near the doorway, where a torch would have been lit if it was nighttime. She didn’t look like a person; she looked more like a cat or a hawk.

It wasn’t Kyra; it couldn’t be. The girl looked so different. Her hair was just as long, perhaps, but it was coal black and her eyes were a light sky blue. Her nails weren’t glassy and pink like Kyra’s were; they were hardly nails at all. They were ivory claws, hooked as if to climb a nearby tree. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but she seemed to be listening more than seeing. “Where’s Draevan?” she hissed in a whisper, her voice fearful, her glance skidding to the door into the hall.

Taric stood still and stunned for a long moment, hearing the girl-creature use Kyra’s voice, but not believing it for the longest time. “Kyra?” he finally found the voice to say. “What’s happened to you?”

“Shh!” She pressed her ear to the wall. “I can’t hear anything!”

“We’re not under attack! Draevan went to pack, that’s all! We were invited to supper!” he exclaimed, his heart thudding from her reaction. “What’s happened to you?” he demanded once again.

She turned her head and blinked at him. “I smelled fear,” she explained.

Kyra smelled fear? She could
smell
fear? Taric was absolutely astounded, and at the same time, he found that he was slightly embarrassed that anything could have put her on high alert when he or Draevan was around. “That’s the king’s servant! All the servants practically piss themselves when we’re nearby!” he explained. He walked up to the bust and stretched out his arms. “Come down now and relax yourself. Neither Draevan nor I would ever let anything happen to you.”