chapter Sixteen
Drake needed to lie down after his first lesson in magic. Mace and Krysta used the opportunity to take Gerrow and Lilith up on an invitation to train with their troops. The fair folk kept a fighting group the size of a small army ready at all times. Mace was surprised by the idea of such vigilance, but after watching them drill for just a few minutes, he understood these warriors were very serious about their calling indeed.
Punches weren’t pulled. You either evaded or got hurt. Considering the fair folk were the next best thing to immortal, Mace figured that was a luxury of their training that humans couldn’t afford to emulate. At least not among lower-ranked warriors. Elite fighters often did train with no holds barred, but it was too easy for a newcomer to make a crippling or fatal mistake.
The men and women trained together, of which Mace approved. You could never choose the sex or skill level of your enemy in a real fight, so segregating your troopers for every facet of their training didn’t serve them well at all. Krysta jumped in with both feet, joining her new friend Lilith with gusto as they moved through the figures of an intricate fighting dance. Krysta had no fear, he’d give her that, but Mace wanted to watch and learn more before he entered the fray. There was much to be learned from observing how these folk trained. Perhaps some of their teachings could be used to better serve the knights or Guard of Draconia.
Eventually, though, Mace felt he’d seen enough. The tang of battle was too tempting on his tongue, and he joined in the fighting practice, glad when he more than held his own among the elite corps of fair folk. They weren’t pulling their strikes for him, which he took as a compliment, and he returned the favor, scoring a few hits that took the fair folk by surprise.
Mace was just starting to really enjoy himself when William entered the courtyard, suited up for practice. He carried a foreign-style long-sword, like many of the fair warriors. Mace moved to the side of the square to see what would become of the smiling challenge in the young prince’s eyes.
He was not to be disappointed. Four fey swordsmen broke off from the main group—experts all, from what Mace had already observed. They surrounded the prince in a square, each taking one side, while the prince stood ready. Krysta sidled up next to Mace as the entire group stood back to watch.
What followed was a blinding display of speed and skill the likes of which Mace had never seen. The elegantly curved swords flashed in the afternoon sun, swirling in patterns too complex and fast to see clearly. William was amazing. Once again, the expert swordsmen didn’t go easy on the young prince, but he was faster than all four of them combined.
Mace realized he was watching magic at work. Somehow, the prince had learned to tap into his dragon speed and strength even more than any of his brothers. No doubt King Roland, Prince Nico and the rest of the royal princes were able to call on the strength and the fire of their dragon while in human form, but Mace had never seen nor heard of anything like this.
When the four swordsmen retreated—each having been defeated—the prince wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Now that—” Krysta nodded toward where Prince Wil was speaking with the warriors he’d just battled, “—was something I never thought to witness.”
“Agreed.” Mace would have said more, but Lilith tossed two shining metal objects straight at Krysta. They were long and slender, but somewhat boxy, in a shape that puzzled Mace.
Krysta, seeing them out of the corner of her eye, shot her hands out reflexively and caught the objects. They were each about a foot long. Surprise crossed her features, to be replaced with a huge grin. A moment later, two resounding snaps made Mace step back.
The objects were fans, but these were no mere lady’s adornment. These were metal fans that had the distinct ring of steel, intricately patterned, to be sure, but tipped with sharpened razor edges. They were weapons!
“Do you know the way?” Lilith seemed to challenge Krysta as the women squared off. Two more sharp snaps, and Lilith was armed with her own set of bladed fans.
“I have danced the dance,” Krysta answered with an almost gleeful glint in her gray eyes, matching the glint of sharpened steel she now twirled in both hands.
They didn’t bow in the formal way of men, but rather did the graceful half-curtsy of noblewomen before engaging in a lightning-fast swirl of bodies and blades almost too fast for Mace to follow. The battle was circular in form, with a great deal of pivoting and turning, long graceful sweeps of the fans that could be so very deadly if they made contact with tender skin. It was clear both women were expert with the amazingly odd weapons. Mace had never seen the like.
In a day of novel happenings, this ranked right up there with fireballs and wizards. The demure woman Mace had pledged his life to was more than the simple warrior he’d come to respect. She was some kind of weapons expert with knowledge of things he’d never even heard of. It was humbling, but also incredibly intriguing.
Mace settled in to watch the match as the women made graceful, arcing patterns with their supple bodies, their sinuous arms and those lethal half-circles of steel. The flash of light off the blade edges, as well as the patterns on the finely wrought metal, was dazzling and hypnotic. Mace was fascinated by the exaggerated movements needed to use such clever weapons.
The benefits of this kind of weapon were not lost on him. Many women carried fans, as did men in warmer climates. A fan would not be remarked upon in places where folk could not go about armed with blades or bows. Social gatherings, for example, or intimate interludes. The sharpened blades of the fan could probably be concealed beneath a fabric covering until such time as the warrior was ready to strike. This then, was a perfect assassin’s weapon.
And Krysta was an expert with it.
That troubling fact would require further thought but Mace saw the match between the women was drawing to a close. Both were breathing hard and as they stopped whirling around, Mace could see both had been bloodied by the battle. Krysta had several fine lines that welled with blood on her arms and legs. Lilith had fewer, but Krysta had held her own. Mace was proud of her showing against such a formidable opponent.
The four fans snicked closed as the women curtsied to each other a final time. Lilith closed the distance, a broad smile on her face.
“You’re far better with those than I would have credited.”
“Thank you. That’s high praise coming from such a skilled warrior.” Krysta turned the fans over to the fair woman. “It’s been a while. Frankly, I’m glad to know I still have the knack, even if you were pulling your punches a bit.”
“Not by much, Lady Krysta. I have never battled a human with as much fan skill as you. It was a pleasure.”
“Likewise.” Krysta grinned, but it turned to a grimace as she held one hand to a cut bleeding more profusely along her thigh now that they’d stopped moving.
Lilith must have seen it as well, for she called to one of her students and a young male rushed over. “Lothar will see to your injuries. He has more healing power than I.” Lilith nodded and left the strange man facing Krysta.
“My sister is a little abrupt,” the man began, moving closer. “I’m Lothar, youngest of the Eliadnae line. Lilith is my eldest sister. She’s our best warrior of her generation, but not much on tact, I’m afraid. Please allow me to see to your wounds. Lilith’s will heal momentarily, but you are human.” He shrugged to punctuate the observation.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lothar. I’m Krysta.”
“Yes, I know. And Sir Mace.” Lothar’s gaze met Mace’s, radiating assurance. Mace could see this man was much older than he appeared. The youthful face and eager gait to his step hid ancient eyes that held far more knowledge and power than a mere youth could, or should, have.
“I would be grateful if you could assist my lady,” Mace said in the formal way of these people, nodding to the man.
“They’re only scratches.” Krysta tried to protest but Lothar was in front of her and Mace behind. She wasn’t going anywhere until her wounds were healed.
“It will take but a moment, Lady.” Lothar reached out one fingertip and drew it over the worst of the cuts—the one on her thigh. Mace felt a crackle of electricity along his skin as if the air itself reacted to the man’s power. Mace stared as the wound healed before his eyes, sealing up as Lothar’s finger passed over it. He did the same with the other small cuts on her arms and legs. In all, it took only moments, but the effects were startling. Krysta was as good as new, though a little bloodstained.
Mace had never seen the like. True healers often took long moments of concentration on their task for only slight improvement to their patient. Never had Mace seen a wound heal so completely, so quickly, with no apparent drain to the healer.
“Your power is amazing,” Mace said, unable to keep the astonishment from his voice. “I thank you for helping my lady.”
“It’s always a pleasure to assist a lovely woman—” Lothar winked at Krysta, grinning, “—and a skilled warrioress.”
“Thank you, Lothar.” Krysta’s voice was softer than Mace liked when she spoke to another man.
The fair rogue lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it before departing. Mace gritted his teeth and held back a growl, but Krysta must have sensed his mood. She turned to hug him, reaching up to kiss his cheek before twirling away to clean off the blood and get back into the ring.
Mace decided to work off his momentary anger in training and spent the rest of the day pummeling someone or being pummeled in return. It was an altogether satisfying day, spent learning from some of the finest warriors in all the world. Mace settled down to learn and felt, by the end of the day, he’d come out wiser.
Dinner that night was a quieter affair than the night before. The minstrels played for a shorter time, and most of their songs were sad. It was clear the fair folk would miss William when he left in the morning.
Some brought him little gifts as they left the hall for the night, pressing kisses of farewell on his cheek, and some of the more motherly women shed a tear or two for his departure.
Several gave gifts to Krysta and her mates, and a few had things for the dragons as well. Most were small gifts that could be easily carried on their long journey, and some were practical gifts that they could use along the way. Krysta amassed a collection of colorful silk scarves, finely woven to the consistency of a spider’s web. They were huge swaths of fabric, but folded up to mere nothings and would travel well. The weaving of the fair folk was reputed to be nearly indestructible as well as gorgeous.
The colorful silks gave her an idea she decided to put to use later, after they retired for the night. She asked Margan, the pennywhistle player of the night before, covertly, if the loan of a lute could be arranged. The woman was more than happy to assist with Krysta’s little plan, promising a lute would be waiting in their room when they went to bed.
True to her word, the lute was lying across the covers when Krysta entered with her men. Drake saw it immediately and went to pick it up, strumming the strings contemplatively.
“What’s this?”
Krysta shrugged. “Just a little something I arranged. Would you mind playing for me tonight?”
“You know I’ll play for you anytime, sweetheart. Anywhere.” The drawl of his voice fired her senses as she went behind the screen to set the stage.
“Good, then warm up a bit. I want your fingers to be nice and loose when you play the velorania for me.”
Drake reclined on the large bed, smiling broadly. “We’re in for a treat, Mace. Have you ever seen the Jinn veil dance?” He began warming up his fingers with a few runs on the lute, breaking into a soft, seductive tune as he helped his little Jinn warrior woman set the mood.
Mace shrugged as he sat on the other side of the large bed, removing his boots. “I’ve never even heard of it.”
“The velorania is something special, my friend. Never performed lightly, and only shared among lovers—or so the legends say. I’ve only heard of it. I’ve never seen a true velorania myself, though all Jinn musicians know the proper tune. We play it for dancing, but the secret steps for the veil dance are known only to a Jinn female, and performed only for her mate—or matesin our case.”
Drake played the short notes that began the winding tune. It started out slow and sensuous, drawing higher and tighter, shorter and faster as the melody grew. He was in the first section of the seductive tune when Krysta appeared from behind the screen.
She stood before them clothed only in the brightly colored scarves the fair folk had given her. She was utterly, devastatingly, beautiful. Drake’s fingers faltered before he gathered his wits and Krysta winked at him from under her veil. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen…but the night promised to bring even further delights he could only imagine.
The dance started slowly and built. The first section, she’d been taught, was for Krysta to make her man more comfortable. She teased Mace, sitting on his lap for short moments as she danced around him, each time she came near, undoing a button or untying a knot that would eventually have him naked. When she had his chest bare, she dropped to her knees, swaying in time with the music between his spread legs. She brushed up against him in the moves of the ancient dance, using her fingers to free his thick cock from his leggings.
She dipped her head, letting her hair and the soft silk of the scarves trail over his erection, then moved away to dance for him as he took the initiative and shucked his leathers. She undulated her torso and shook her breasts under the thin veils, beginning the next section of the dance as she slowly pulled away the trailing veils. These were the smaller scarves she’d tucked in here and there among the longer veils she’d used to wrap her body. There were more layers than anyone would have guessed from looking at her, but the silk was so thin and transparent, it was deceptive.
She stripped off the smaller scarves, moving forward and back to tease the soft material against Mace’s hard body. She wrapped them around his arms, his hands, his legs and even his cock, using the gentle friction to drive him to a fever pitch.
The dance was working.
Soon she was left in nothing but the long veils she’d twined around her person in the ancient pattern. Now came the next part of the dance. Obligingly, the music changed subtly, growing faster and more intense.
Krysta drifted closer to Mace, holding out one corner of a scarf she’d untucked for him to take in his teeth. As the music increased slightly, she twirled out of the wrapping, uncovering a bit more of her skin to the night air and leaving Mace with the colorful silk veil in his lap. He discarded it quickly, reaching forward with his mouth for another of the strategically tucked scarves. This one was tucked in between her breasts. She covered his head with her hands as she snuggled his face between the soft mounds, allowing him time to nip at her skin under the soft veils, then drew away when he had the tail of the scarf between his teeth once more.
Spinning a little more quickly now, the veil unwound from around her body as Mace watched, transfixed. Oh, how she liked that look on his face. It told her the dance was working its magic. He was completely under her spell.
She glanced at Drake, glad to see him smile. Because he played the music, this veil dance was primarily for Mace, but she could tell from Drake’s expression he didn’t begrudge the quiet knight the treat, and Drake was enjoying the view as well, if his hard-on was any indication. She blew Drake a kiss as she coaxed Mace’s hands to another tucked scarf point.
She spun away and more of her body was revealed. The music swelled as she repeated the motions. Each time she twirled away, she removed another veil, coming closer to the climax of the dance. Mace was breathing hard now, his cock rising high against his belly.