Llewellyn’s Song (8 page)

“Wait.” She broke off. Her face pensive, she leaned up on
one elbow.

“What is it?” His mouth felt swollen, his eyelids heavy. His
cock throbbed with each of his heartbeats. He wanted to thrust it into her, to
hear her cry out…

“I wanted to say that I love you.” She said it quickly,
then, to his surprise, blushed.

He let the words sink in. They felt right, falling into a
place he’d kept free. A place that hadn’t been filled until now. A smile tugged
at his mouth. “I love you too, Tamara. I’m glad you chose me as your husband.”

Sheer relief flashed in her eyes and they filled with tears.

“No, don’t cry, my love.” He took her face in his hands and
drew her down for another kiss. He loved losing himself in her kisses.

She rolled him over on his back and straddled him. Her
thighs spread on each side of his waist, she offered him a clear view of her
sex. That was nice. But even better when she lifted her hips, balanced above
him for a minute, then, ever so slowly sank down onto his cock.

He watched, his throat going suddenly dry, as she eased
herself down. Reaching the bottom, she thrust her hips forward, grinding her
pelvis against his and sending shocks of pleasure through his cock as he felt
it hit the mouth of her womb.

He uttered a loud groan as she slowly lifted herself upwards
again. The cold air hit his cock, wet with her juices, and made the heat of her
body even more sizzling. He could hardly breathe anymore. His heart was going
to burst out of his chest. He reached toward her, but she grabbed his wrists
and held them pinned over his head, her breasts brushing against his chin. He
lowered his head and sucked at one of her nipples with his mouth. It was taut,
and when he suckled it Tamara ground her hips even more firmly against his,
wedging his cock even deeper inside her.

Shivers of delight ran down his spine. Then Tamara leaned
over and pressed her lips to his. At the same time, she increased the tempo of
her strokes, her hips lifting and falling faster and faster. His cock was
burning. His tongue reached and parried hers. His cock head hit her womb with
each long, hard plunge into her. Coherent thought fled, all sensation gathered
in his belly and started to grow. Soon all that mattered was his cock driving
to her womb, and each second, each minute seemed to lengthen and then become
perfectly crystalline, hardening in his loins. Pain merged with pleasure until
his muscles clenched, and then a flutter began in his chest. Suddenly he felt
her cunt pulsate wildly as a blinding orgasm ripped through him and a golden
note left his throat as he began to sing. A higher, silvery note joined his as Tamara
threw her head back and sang. Music burst from her throat in a symphony of
emotion.

Elf song! The sound wrapped around them and bound them
together. Each long spasm as he ejaculated echoed in a note rising from his
throat. Part of his chi left his body in the song, part of his heart. A soft
golden glow seemed to envelop them as their chi met and melded together.
Ripples of music washed over them, wrapping around their bodies in a visible
cloak of music.

Afterwards, the very walls seemed to vibrate and echo with
their music. Tamara raised her head from off his shoulder and looked at him,
her eyes dancing. “I hope the demons don’t mind noisy visitors,” she said.

Llewellyn pulled her down on top of him then rolled over,
throwing his leg over her hip and pinning her against his chest. “I don’t care.
I’m too tired to care, for one.” He blinked and laughed softly. “I didn’t
expect that.”

“I did.” She would always surprise him. She kissed his lips
softly. “I hoped, at any rate. I hoped with all my heart.”

Her eyelashes fluttered closed as she spoke, and to his
amusement her last words ended in a soft snore. He kissed the tip of her nose
and made sure the covers were securely wrapped around them before closing his
own eyes and drifting to that place dreams haunt.

Hivernia

The journey back to Hivernia was uneventful. Llewellyn would
not let Tamara speak to her own tribe. He went to deliver the message himself,
but didn’t wait for a reply. They were in a hurry to reach Hivernia before the
snows blocked the passes completely. They were already late.

Tamara fretted as they climbed the slopes, but her worries
were unfounded. Bald Pass, the northernmost pass in Hivernia, was snowed in but
still open. There were troops of elves there, and every day they cleared the
passes. By order of King Branagh, the elves told them, as they stopped in a
small hut and had some lunch.

Tamara was still shy around so many different men. The ice
demons hadn’t counted, but the first glimpse she got of a group of men elves
together made her cling to Llewellyn’s arm in panic.

“They won’t hurt you,” he said, trying to pry her grip loose
and get her moving again.

She hung back, but when he started to go on without her she
bounded to his side. It took a few minutes for her to get up the nerve to say
hello, and when they didn’t shout or go crazy, as her clan mothers had warned
her they could, she relaxed. Maybe her clan had been exaggerating. As the night
deepened and they sat around the fire chatting, she decided that yes, there had
been a lot of exaggerating, and if she ever got the chance to go back to her
tribe she would set things right once and for all.

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 kept 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.