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Slaves to Passion (greybishop & ShadowOfDesire)

Despite her attempt to appear coolly indifferent to what he’d composed, Lukas was quite pleased with Jacelyn’s reaction to his poem; he’d caught the fleeting smile that had passed over her lovely lips, and knew he’d touched her with his words. Of course he also knew enough about women to realize that didn’t guarantee anything, but it still made him cautiously optimistic about getting to know the ranger better while they were working together. So he happily chatted with her for a few moments before they resumed their search. “Aye, I know I’m no real poet like that Chauncey fellow, the one that done wrote all those tales. We read some o’ those at the monastery you know; I rather liked the one the Miller told. But there’s somethin’ about bein’ with a pretty lass that brings out the bard in any man, even a simple fellow like myself.” The sellsword shrugged, as if to say he couldn’t help himself and then resumed ghosting after Jacelyn as she turned back to tracking the signs that had been left behind.

The second trail proved to be no harder to follow than the first and even Lukas could tell a fair sized party had come down the hill the way they were going. In the likely event they were following whoever had taken Isolde, Balan and the maid, the sellsword had to imagine it had been a band of at least a half dozen men in addition to their captives; that would have been enough to quickly overpower the guards and also keep an eye on their prisoners. Running into a mob of that size would definitely be a problem, especially if they had training and experience. But that was a bridge they’d cross, or not when the time came.

The lower they got on the hill following the second trail, the longer the shadows got; looking up Lukas could see the sun had passed its zenith and the afternoon was getting along. They still had plenty of daylight left though, and if the gods smiled on them they just might be able to figure what had become of Isolde before the day was through. Then the sellsword began to notice the glimmer and flash of water through the trees ahead of them; the ranger had mentioned this trail was headed towards a river and he imagined what he was seeing was just that, or a perhaps a stream that ran into the larger watercourse. Lukas suspected that might be a problem, for a couple of reasons; following the trail over a stream or river might prove difficult, even for a skilled tracker like Jacelyn and if the band they were following had gotten away on skiffs of some sort … But there was nothing for it, except to follow the trail to its end and see what they could find before the light failed them for the day …
 
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When they reached the water, Jacelyn's thoughts mirrored the sellsword's, and she frowned at the rushing stream. The trail ended at a rocky, violent portion of the waterway where the cold, rushing waters from the snow melt burbled around smooth boulders and over submerged rocks. She paused upon their bank, crouching, fingers lightly brushing the damp earth. Her eyes swept first upstream and then down, decisions rolling about her head.

At length, she flicked her chin toward the north and began pacing along the bank until the stream widened. The bank leveled out, as well, spreading in both directions in shallow, muddy banks. The mud, thick and nearly black in color, had been churned up by recent activity. There were animal tracks, newer and fresher, but the boot prints were unmistakable. She could find no trace of blood, nor any smaller prints that would have belonged to the women. It took only a few moments of study for her to realize why.

"They were carried," she said aloud. "Captured and carried here. Lord Balan's prints might be among these, but none here belong to Isolde or her maid. Whoever happened upon them, took them prisoner and carried them from the trail to the boats that were waiting. " She pointed to a curious indentations that ran at a diagonal to the stream where a pair of deep rifts had been carved out of the muddy earth.

Inhaling as she stood, she glanced back downstream. "There are places where one might hide in the wood, and always stories of bandits in the Black Forest, but if they came from that direction and traveled here for whatever reason, they would have tied the boats further downstream where the waters run slowly. This is where I would have left my boat had I come from the north and intended to return there." Her eyes swept along the ground. "If luck favors us, we might find some sign to tell us from whence they came or which way they traveled with their prisoners."
 
Lukas shook his head when they reached the spot where the two boats had been hauled up onto the muddy bank; it seemed to him as if their luck had run out. But then he thought about what the ranger had said and realized the gods might not have abandoned them just yet. Her point about which way the skiffs had probably gone made sense and fortunately ruled out Isolde and Balan having been taken into the Black Forest, never to be seen again. Granted there was still a lot of countryside upstream of where they were standing, but as far as he could tell it was more open than the forest and the mountains also weren’t that far away; searching in that direction would still be a daunting prospect, but not as impossible as if the boats had gone south.

The idea of finding some further sign to help them struck the sellsword as a forlorn hope, but he looked carefully around the landing area nonetheless. And just as he was about to give up, he caught the flash of some color in a ray of sunlight that somehow had made it through the trees. Moving carefully towards it, so as to hopefully avoid trampling any sign the ranger might be able to read, he saw a scrap of cloth peeking out from behind a nearby tree; the ground and brush right in front of the tree looked like some large animal might have bedded down there for the night. But no animal, not even a bear would have slept in such an open spot; perhaps the prisoners were dropped there while their captors made their boats ready to depart?

Leaning in carefully, Lukas plucked the cloth from the brush that had partially concealed it and saw it was a blue silk kerchief; as he pulled the cloth up he felt something heavy roll out of it and realized it had been wrapped around a jagged rock. The kerchief was now wet and soiled, but looked like it was finely made and the sort of thing a noble or merchant’s daughter might have carried; he called Jacelyn over and handed her his find, to see if she might recognize it. Then he picked up the rock but it seemed to be nothing special to him, just something that had been used to keep the kerchief from blowing away. Still, the sellsword puzzled over the rock’s jagged appearance and then looked more carefully at the tree trunk where the cloth had been partially concealed; it looked as if something had been carved into the bark, down low and partway behind the tree. It was three letters, that looked as if they’d been hastily scratched out: MIN. He studied them for a few moments, then turned to look at the ranger.

“So what do you think lass? Could this have been left behind for someone to find, by Balan or Isolde maybe when no one was watchin’ ‘em closely? As a sign they were still alive, and maybe also to say who took ‘em or where they was headed?” Lukas looked at the kerchief. “It’d probably be easy enough to see if that belonged to Balan or Isolde. But what on earth could those letters mean?” The sellsword scratched at his beard. “The name of a foeman? Or a town maybe? Does it ring any sort o' bell with you at all?”
 
"Clever girl," Jacelyn breathed. She brightened at the appearance of the handkerchief and examined it for a moment, noting the small and delicate embroidery that framed the bright cloth. Lukas' question received a single nod. "Aye, this was Isolde's. Bless the girl for her forethought at leaving it. This confirms that she was here and was carried off in those boats."

Curious to see what else he'd found, the ranger crouched down beside the tree to examine the scratches in the bark. Her fingers trailed over the carved letters as though she could see the will of whoever left them there. The possibilities were endless, but she thought long and hard on what those three letters could mean. After a few moments, she rose from her crouch and moved back to the water's edge. Her gaze turned northward, scattered suppositions slowly forming into something more linear and direct. Her inner sight roved over the terrain, revisiting memories of the places she'd ranged, sifting through her knowledge of the area.

At length, she turned and tucked the kerchief away in her bag, looking back to the sellsword with a spark of hope in her eyes. "I think they were trying to tell us that they were being taken to the mines." She pointed northward. "Upstream, to north and east of Helia, there are mines that were abandoned some decades past when the tin ran dry. Some have collapsed, some flooded, but there are still a few that might be of use. The tunnels are vast and dangerous. It would be all too easy for someone to hide there or make camp in one of the entrances. When I last ranged that area, the trails were overgrown and unused, but that was over a year and some months ago. Anyone could have settled there since."

"I have traveled through the Black Forest, and there are many places one might hide within those woods, but I have not heard of any mines that exist there. I think traveling north would be our best chance. They were still alive when they were brought here. Let us hope they remain that way. As they were not slaughtered like the guards, it makes one wonder if their value was already known and they were taken as hostages to barter or sell."

Head cocked in thought, her gaze flicked to the stream before landing once more on the sellsword. "It will take us a half day to reach Helia, and another day and a half to reach the mines if we travel at a fast pace. I suggest we overnight in the village tonight, if you've no objection, and then resume the trip at first light."
 
Lukas agreed to Jacelyn’s plan readily enough. In part that was simply because Mathis was paying for his services and she was his representative. But the bigger part of it was that the ranger’s plan made sense; it was clear one of the captives had somehow been able to leave them a sign to follow, and if there were old tin mines upriver that was as likely a destination as any. So after dunking his head in the stream to cool off and drinking his fill, the sellsword accompanied Jacelyn back to their horses as the sun started lowering in the sky …

---

Before heading off towards the highway and Helia, the pair stopped at the caretaker’s cottage as Jacelyn had suggested; it turned out the man had returned around midday as his wife said he would. Piryl proved to be a tall, lean, earnest looking young fellow, who stared at them grimly as they laid out everything they’d discovered on and around the hilltop; when Lukas produced the creature’s head the boy Brandon was fascinated by it and looked as if he wanted to touch it. His mother on the other hand, had clearly been upset by the pair’s tale and clutched her baby tighter when she saw the head; little Lizzy just giggled at that, but Piryl took Madeline’s free hand in his as he told the boy to keep well away from the grisly trophy. After laying out where the caretaker would find the disturbed dead and the slain guards, Lukas offered the man some advice. “Until you’re sure the hill is safe, I’d only go up there with a group of men. Armed men. An’ if you see one o’ these things, don’t let it near you. Try an’ take it with bows if you have any, or hold it off with spears or pitchforks. Then when a few lads distract it off to one side, some others break down its legs on the other, with an axe or a maul; you hit it in the knees hard enough, it’ll go to the ground. Then you fill it full of arrows, or drop a rock on its head, or bash its skull in.” Lukas looked around the cottage yard, then pulled a silver piece from the pouch on his belt and pressed it into the caretaker’s hand. “This’ll buy you a stout spear, something that won’t break if you need to use it. And if you can find yourself a boar spear, so much the better.” The caretaker nodded his head grimly as he listened to the sellsword and his son was hanging on every word, but Madeline’s face grew pale as she listened.

“Now if you could help us out with some information lad, would you mind tellin’ us where your stipend comes from?”

“Oh, aye, o’ course. All the temples hereabouts contribute, especially them that’s in Sinclaire or Helia. But the coin don’t come direct to me, it’s collected up by the Temple o’ Hados in both towns. That’s who I went to see today, the High Priestess in Helia. Well mainly; I also bought some things for me family as well.” Piryl squeezed Madeline’s hand and gave her a little smile.

Lukas had suspected something as much. “Alright lad, we’ll let the Temple in Helia know, since we’re headed that way; ask ‘em to raise up some men an’ send ‘em to aid you tomorrow. You can either wait for them here, or head to Sinclaire at first light to let the Temple there know, see if you can get more men;” by the look on Madeline’s face, the sellsword knew which plan she preferred …

---

As they got ready to head back to the highway Lukas shook Piryl’s hand, then admonished the boy to listen to his parents; the caretaker, his wife and the boy all thanked Sir Lukas for his help, and the sellsword just let it pass without comment. Then Piryl thanked Jacelyn as well, and Madeline gave the ranger a hug goodbye; it was hesitant at first and awkward as well, because the woman still had a baby on her hip, but the sincerity of it was unmistakeable. “Thank ye for all your help Mistress Jacelyn. May the gods look over ye on your travels; I’ll pray that you're safe, an’ find Lady Isolde unharmed as well.”

---

On the way back to the highway Lukas turned in Paulus’ saddle and spoke to Jacelyn. “I think they’ll be safe enough until tomorrow. Whoever made off with Isolde and Balan is long gone, and we spent enough time on that hill to know there’s no more creatures.” The sellsword paused for a moment. “Probably.” Once they got to the highway he went on. “So besides visitin’ the Temple to let ‘em know what’s going on, I’m thinkin’ they might be able to help us get to the bottom o’ what that pendant might mean. One of Hados’ symbols is a serpent o’ course, though I never seen it twisted around to swallow its own tail. An’ since he is the god of the underworld, well … who better to ask about that thing an’ the pendant it was wearin’. If the Temple is shut up for the night by the time we get there, we can just visit for morning prayers before we head off to the mines, if that’s alright with you lass.”

As they rode north the sellsword kept one eye on his surroundings and the other on his companion, but his mind started turning to the thought of his first ale after a long, sweaty day that had been interesting in more ways than one …
 
"We'll not make it before the temple doors are closed," she confirmed to Lukas, "and I would not disturb the priestesses after hours for all the money in the world. We shall speak with them on the morrow. Let us enjoy this evening, for it may be the last tavern we see for a while."

Helia was smaller than Sinclaire, though still boasted several inns that could accommodate them. As they arrived just before sundown, the guards waved them in without questioning them after Jacelyn waved in greeting. Two others called from the heights, and she also acknowledged them with a lifted hand, though did not stop to converse. Her mare knew the path and turned down the cobbled road without direction. The city had quieted as most of the shops had closed for the evening and townfolk sought their homes and supper. The taverns were full, however, and music and laughter followed them as they traveled toward the heart of the city.

After only a few minutes, Jacelyn's mare stopped beneath a sign that read 'The Singing Beard' and boasted a portrait of a round-faced man with a large, brown bushy beard. A girl came to fetch their horses, spouting off instructions for their care and feeding before Jacelyn had a chance to recite the usual spiel. The ranger just laughed and tossed her a coin, pulling her bags off her mare before the girl led the horses away. Glancing at Lukas, she tipped her head toward the open door of the inn.

The interior held nothing special or unique. The layout and decor were familiar, and could have belonged to any number of taverns scattered across the land. Here the crowd was more subdued and the music lulling rather than rowdy. There were no loud conversations or shouting drunkards stamping their feet to some bawdy tune. The minstrel was female, and sang with a firm, clear voice that carried into the courtyard. Jacelyn paused in the doorway for a moment to listen before stepping inside.

"If you get us a table, I'll get us rooms and supper," she told him. "I'm known here and will get a fair price." Leaving him to his own devices, she wove through the tables to reach the bar that was kept by a rough-looking rotund man with a magnificent beard that matched the one on the inn's sign.
 
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The rest of the ride to Helia was a quiet one. Lukas was tired after a day of climbing hills in armor and had to assume that even Jacelyn was a tad tuckered out too. But he also suspected the ranger was disappointed with how the day had turned out; with her freedom at stake, Lukas had to imagine Jacelyn was hoping to find Mathis’ daughter sooner rather than later. Which actually would have been fine as far as the sellsword was concerned, since he’d get the other half of his money when that happened. But he’d been campaigning long enough to know things rarely worked out that easily, and was rather pleased with what they had been able to accomplish in such a short time; they had a good idea of what had happened to Isolde and Balan, had some hope the girl was still alive, and even had an idea for where to look for her next. And on top of all that they’d handily defeated the thing that’d attacked them, despite its ungodly toughness and poisoned claws. As they rode along Lukas felt a dull ache in his elbow but nothing more and he wondered if they should also find an apothecary in Helia before they headed off to the mines, and maybe a blacksmith too …

---

Lukas could see Helia was smaller than Sinclaire, but it looked every bit as peaceful and prosperous as the rest of the region. And he could also see that Jacelyn was known here and knew her way about, so he followed her lead and nodded when she said they’d visit Hados’ temple on the morrow; that just meant that much more time out of his armor this evening. The inn she led them too looked comfortable enough and it seemed Jacelyn knew the girl who came for their horses, so he suspected Paulus would be cared for well overnight. Grabbing his saddlebags, shield and the sack his helmet and coif were in, the sellsword followed the ranger into The Singing Beard – and was immediately disappointed to see that it was a rather quiet place and that the only one actually singing was the minstrel by the fire. Still, she had a nice voice and seemed to know how to carry a tune, and the subdued crowd probably meant they’d at least get a decent night’s rest before returning to the trail in the morning.

After Jacelyn went off to sort out their rooms and supper Lukas found them a table in one corner and piled his equipment up against the wall, then settled onto his stool. A passing serving wench stopped to say hello and he ordered them two ales as he loosened up his hauberk and began to unlace his vambraces. A quick check of the cloth covering his elbow showed it had bled a bit more before it stopped and he couldn’t smell the whiff of any contagion, but he knew he should still clean the wound once more before going to sleep. So when the wench returned he asked her if the inn had a bath house and was delighted to hear that it did, though she said it was on the small side; that was neither here nor there to the sellsword and as he happily took his first sip of ale he relaxed and listened to the bard, while he waited to see what the ranger had been able to organize for their dinner …
 
After some haggling, Jacelyn left the bar and found Lukas easily enough. She removed her cloak, hanging it upon a peg on the wall, and began divesting herself of her leather armor, which came off fairly easily after loosening a few buckles and straps. She left her equipment, including her sword, bow, and quiver, piled up next to Lukas'. Her expression was dour as she unbuckled the bracer that completely engulfed her wrist to protect against her bowstring. The clothing she wore beneath her armor, ruddy colored tunic and pants, was plain and servicable without an ounce of embroidery or ornamentation. It did little to flatter her body, but it certainly wasn't meant to. Jacelyn was tall, slender, and willowy, seeming more apt to bend in the face of a powerful force than to break, and didn't have much in the way of womanly curves -- at least not from what others could discern from her clothing.

She didn't speak until she'd settled across from Lukas at their table. "They have a room for us, but only the one. Two beds, so unless you fancy sleeping in the hayloft, we're going to have to share." Her eyes flitted to him briefly, a wry expression on her face. "I hope, for your sake, that you don't snore too loudly." Of course, that also meant that he'd not have a chance to take a hired woman to bed without Jacelyn knowing, hearing his nightly activities if he didn't mind her being in the same room, and cooperating to remove herself elsewhere if he did.

The barmaid paused at their table to deliver food and drink. Besides the ale, she left them with two trenchers, each laden with half of a roasted chicken, two steaming slices of bread, and a few boiled potatoes. With her stomach already growling in protest, Jacelyn tucked in without hesitation, eating quickly, though neatly. She also drank sparingly, not wanting a pounding headache the following day when they visited the priestesses.

While she ripped her bread into smaller bits to sop up the juice from the chicken, she glanced back to Lukas, attention flickering to his arm. "Does it ail you?" she asked. "There's a healer in the village that we could summon, if needed. Or perhaps visit his shop on the morrow after we've finished in the temple. If you are in pain, I'd suggest the former rather than the latter."
 
Lukas noticed the expression on the ranger’s face when she came to the table, but didn’t comment on it straight away because he also saw the wench returning behind her, arms laden with food as well as drink. His trencher looked like a gift from the gods at that moment, and after he’d enjoyed a huge swallow of ale he ripped off his chicken leg and began eating with gusto. It was only after his second big bite when he finally paused and replied to Jacelyn, grinning at her as he chewed and pointed at her with the chicken leg. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me lass; I sleep like a baby. But how do I know I don’t have to worry about you? Maybe your man back at Mathis’ estate has to plug his ears to get any sleep, or worse cover his nose with a cloth.” The sellsword’s grin broadened. “Or are you one of them there ladies, who always smells fresh as a rose?” Lukas chuckled at his own wit around the food he was still chewing, but also kept an eye on the ranger lest she suddenly decide to brain him in the head with her tankard or stab him in the leg.

Once his chicken’s leg had been picked clean Lukas had a bit more ale, then started in on the wing and his bread. As he did he kept talking between bites, with a voice that was a little more serious. “Nay lass, my arm feels sore but I’ve felt much worse. I’ll see when I clean it, but I think all I’m in need of is more godsfoil and maybe a few stitches. I have some catgut and a bone needle in me pouch if it comes to it, an’ if you wouldn’t mind doin’ the honors it’d probably turn out a sight neater if you did it.” The sellsword briefly wondered if returning the ranger’s teasing had been such a good idea, since she might end up sewing up his wound, but it was too late to take his words back and he doubted she would actually maim a sword arm she’d already paid for. “But a visit to the healer tomorrow would still be a good idea, to ask about the creature’s poison and also get some more o’ the leaf.” After a more moderate sip of ale he continued on. “An’ maybe we could stop by a blacksmith too.”

After the wing was gone the sellsword began eating his chicken breast and potatoes a little more slowly. “This is good, I like the spices.” Then Lukas looked at Jacelyn with an expression that almost seemed concerned, and spoke to her in a voice that was as gentle as he could make it. “So how do ya think today went lass? I know it was a long one, which’s why most o’ the rooms are gone, but we did make some progress …”
 
Jacelyn didn't take offense. She'd been around men far too long to let silly comments like his rile her up. Instead, she raised one of her arms to sniff the pit and nodded in agreement. "Aye, roses," she confirmed with a completely straight face. While she didn't exactly stink enough to clear the room, she knew that she could definitely benefit from a good scrubbing. She'd had a sketchy bath the previous night with a basin and rag, but she would love a long soak, and fully intended to utilize the bathhouse before she sought her bed.

Like the swordsman, she tucked into her supper with gusto, packing away the food surprisingly fast for one so slender. As she speared another of her potatoes with her eating knife, she eyed Lukas, gaze shifting to his elbow. "I don't mind tending to it if needs be. I can stitch small and straight, if needed. Patched up plenty of wounds, my own included, and can confirm that it's always easier to have someone else do it for you."

The minstrel's somber music faded and a smattering of applause followed. The woman didn't allow it to fade before launching into another tune, this one more upbeat and cheerful, though in good taste rather than bawdy. The patrons came alive, clapping and stomping and singing along with the chorus. It wasn't a song that Jacelyn knew, so she paid little attention to it. Instead, her focus remained on Lukas as she lifted her tankard for a long pull.

Foam clung to her upper lip as she pulled the glass away, but it was quickly lapped up with a swipe of her tongue while she considered his question. "Aye, progress, and a promising lead. Even Mathis would be pleased with today's findings. That creature... was unexpected, but you dealt with it admirably and set up the shot for me. I thought we made a good team." She gave him a nod of approval as she pinched off another bit of bread. "It wasn't the outcome I was hoping for, of course. I want to see Isolde returned alive and unharmed. Given today's signs, I fear that either or both might not come to pass. However, I knew that this task wouldn't be an easy one, else Mathis wouldn't have been prepared to offer such a reward for success." It was obvious that she wasn't talking just about the money.

"And you? Are you pleased with the progress, given that you're still stuck with me for at least another few days?"
 
Lukas laughed out loud as Jacelyn raised her arm and sniffed at her armpit; he was pleased to see the woman across from him was willing to go along with his joking, so he decided to push his luck a little further. “Nay lass, nay. That’s not what I’m talking about.” The sellsword glanced down at the ranger’s trencher. “How are the spices on the chicken agreeing with your stomach?” He quickly raised a hand. “Nay, don’t go sniffing down there, you might get your head stuck! Though I imagine I could pull it out easily enough, thanks to all that long hair o’ yours.” Lukas laughed heartily once again, clearly pleased with his own wit; at the very least he was amusing himself.

After consuming more chicken and potatoes the sellsword replied to Jacelyn’s last question in a more serious tone. “Aye lass, I am pleased; I think we accomplished quite a lot today. I can understand you wantin’ more, given what’s at stake but that’s rarely the way o’ things. But we have some idea o’ what happened an’ where to look next, which is a lot more than we started with.” Lukas took a big swallow of ale and then went on. “But more important than that, I think we have the favor o’ the gods as well; they help those who help themselves after all, an’ I don’t think the sunbeam that let me spy that kerchief was any coincidence. Isolde or Balan put it there to help someone find ‘em, an’ we done found it despite that creature bein’ there, to fall on anyone followin' their trail maybe.” The sellsword looked at the woman he was sitting with quite seriously. “You’re right, we are a good team. An’ we’re gonna find that girl.”

Lukas turned his attention to the minstrel after his little speech, finishing up his meal as he listened to her play; he didn’t sing along with the other patrons, but Jacelyn could see him swaying and bouncing a little on his stool, in time with the music. By the time the bard finally stopped to wet her lips there was nothing left on the big sellsword’s trencher but bones and he was sipping on the last of his beer; he turned towards the ranger and went on with a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye. “An’ as far as bein’ stuck with you for another few days, well … I wouldn’t want you to think that one poem I composed was some stroke of luck. So inspired by Mistress Bard o’er there, I have another for ye.” Then the big sellsword straightened up, looked Jacelyn in the eyes and recited a new poem. Once he was done, Lukas just grinned and stood. “Well, that’s my supper done lass.” He placed enough coins on the table to cover his share of dinner. “I’m off to find our room, then clean up this wound.” And with that he nodded his head, picked up his equipment and made his way out of the common room …

There was a young ranger named Jacelyn,

An’ a big job it was she was handlin’.

Yet she stayed fair of face,

As she rode all over the place,

And plucked on her bow like a mandolin!
 
Jacelyn only chuckled at the sellsword's teasing, finding the very idea amusing. Then again, she was well accustomed to the crude ways of soldiers, so there was little that Lukas could truly do or say to shock her in that regard. Most of the men in her company tended to forget she was even female. She was skilled in her profession, a capable ranger that had warned them of trouble on countless occasions, and never complained about the conditions upon the trail. Those that knew her background understood why. There were far worse things to endure than sleeping on the ground in the rain or eating tough meat for dinner.

The man sustained the smallest of hopes she held within her heart of finding Isolde alive and unharmed with his words. Pleased that he agreed with her on most points, she nodded her thanks before returning to her drink. More and more, she was coming to see that he was all he'd claimed to be and more. He wasn't just a simple mercenary whose only goal was coin. Perhaps that had been his initial motivation, but he was now fully vested in the search. She'd seen that on the hilltop where he'd bravely charged into the darkness to slay that cursed creature.

The poetry, though... she'd have to decide whether she could endure that particular horror. He'd already shown a propensity to compliment her in the oddest ways. She didn't think herself particular pretty or desirable. She'd always been too tall, too angular, and too flat. Too much like a boy. Her curves hadn't come in until much later, which didn't really save her from the pain of her early years, but even her maturity meant very little to those of the opposite sex. Even among the slaves, there were always prettier and more pleasing bodies to share one's bed.

Because of that insecurity, Lukas' poetry made her fidget and blush. She wasn't certain how to respond to his creations, nor how to take those compliments that he doled out so easily. With a half smile still pulling at her lips, she nodded as he rose to leave. "I'll be along a bit later to stitch up that wound if you still want help with that. I'd like to have a word with the innkeep before coming up. Our room is the last one on the right next to the back stairs."
 
When Lukas walked into their room he was greeted by the girl who’d taken their horses; she was sweeping a broom around and seemed to be just about done tidying up. “Hello. Are you travelling with Jacelyn?”

The sellsword stopped with his gear in hand and looked about the room; though on the small side it seemed clean, the beds looked comfortable and there was a window too. “I am indeed lass. My name’s Lukas. And you are?”

The girl continued to appraise him with all the shrewdness of a young woman, which she might’ve been; it was hard for the sellsword to tell. “Mara.”

“Well hello Mara” said Lukas amiably enough. “Has my horse given you any grief?”

“Oh no, he’s been very well behaved.”

The sellsword ventured a grin. “He must like you. Paulus can be … ornery sometimes.” Which was a bit of an understatement; Lukas had seen his warhorse kick a man’s brains out, or bite his face off more than once. After he set his bags on the bed closest to the window, he pulled the last two carrots from his saddlebags and offered them to Mara. “Are you going to check the stables before you go to sleep? Here, why don’t you give these to Paulus, I forgot. This way he’ll probably listen to you even more.”

As Mara reached out to accept the vegetables a large gray cat leapt onto Lukas’ bed and then looked up at the man with big eyes. “That’s Fafhrd, he’s one of our mousers” the girl explained as she accepted the carrots.

“Well hello Fafhrd” Lukas said to the cat, who stared at the man for a moment before beginning to lick at its paws. The sellsword turned to the girl. “He looks like he does a good job. I can talk to animals you know.” Mara gave Lukas a highly dubious look. “But they never seem to answer me” the sellsword quickly went on; the girl smiled a little, then picked up her broom. “I’ll make sure your horse gets his carrots” Mara said as she left the room; the gray cat leapt off the bed and followed her.

---

Down in the small, empty bath house Lukas stripped off his tunic and belt, then covered the peg holding his sheathed blade with his trousers and smallclothes. After that he had a nice long soak, scrubbed himself clean, and dunked down into the rinsing tub to come up blubbering and frothing as happily as a baby. After he’d cleaned his body the sellsword then sat on a bench and unwrapped the cloth that had been covering his wound; once he’d gently scrubbed the crusted blood away it seemed just fine to him. The creature’s claws hadn’t scored that deeply, and the ranger’s cut had been quite precise; three, maybe four or five stitches would be enough to close up the wound. He knew he had enough godsfoil and catgut for that, though they’d definitely need to see a healer on the morrow to get more supplies. The sellsword flexed his right hand as if he was gripping a sword or some other weapon, and it felt almost fine to him; a tad sore, but nowhere near as weak and dead as it had earlier in the day. More questions for the priestesses and healer, but for the nonce it seemed that Mares hadn’t deserted him yet. Lukas touched the hammer totem at his neck, then fingered the open collar he wore as well and leaned back and closed his eyes, so his muscles could enjoy the warmth of the bath house after yet another day on campaign …
 
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"Aye, heard about the poor girl, I did." Belkin pushed another ale toward her where she leaned heavily upon the bar. "Sad thing. She was a sweet lass."

"Is a sweet lass," Jacelyn corrected a bit more fiercely than she'd intended. "I'm not counting her among the dead yet."

The bearded man held his hands defensively. "Sorry, luv, I didn't mean it. You'll find her. Best tracker I've ever known 'sides your mentor. He's not left the estate?"

She shook her head sadly. "Nae, not in a long while. Mathis keeps him out of loyalty, I think. Loyalty and friendship. He can train well enough, but vowed not to go ranging again. Too difficult to accept the truth, I suppose."

"Aye, that's the way of things sometimes." He nodded knowingly. "Nary a one of us enjoy getting older, especially as such ailments come with age. A man likes to feel useful."

"So does a woman," she pointed out, lifting her mug for a long drink.

"Where'd you find the blade?" Belkin asked, tactfully changing the subject. "Seems a rough sort to be keepin' company with alone."

Jacelyn barked a laugh. "Aye, does seem that way, doesn't it? Far from the truth, however. He is skilled with that sword of his, truth be told, but is not without a sense of humor. The man is fond of poetry."

The innkeep chuckled. "A man prone to poetry is a man who's found inspiration. Best be careful with that one, lass, else you'll be spoutin' it too."

The ranger took another swig of ale, though couldn't stop smirking over her secret thoughts.

---

A pair of soft, warm hands slid up along Lukas' arms to his broad shoulders and began to massage, kneading slowly and deliberately to soothe away any of his knotted muscles. Her hands were strong and the movement practiced as each area was attacked. An equally soothing voice caressed his ear as he felt a pair of soft, pliant breasts press against his naked back.

"Are you looking for companionship this evening, m'lord?" The voice was sultry, sweet, and definitely did not belong to Jacelyn.

A backwards glance at the buxom blonde would tell him exactly what he needed to know -- the inn employed a whore to tend their bath house, providing additional services to their guest if they so desired. The woman was comely enough, but it was her superior figure that most men sought. Her hands shifted to move lower down his back to find all the tightness that ailed him.
 
It was the best dream Lukas had had in ages. Her strong, warm hands massaged his shoulders and he felt all the aches and pains of the day fading away. The sellsword knew dreams were really messages from the gods and he faded happily into this one, thankful that they’d deigned to show him how all this was going to turn out. Then Lukas heard a strange voice and abruptly woke up; so much for his dreams.

His first reaction was to be pissed. She wasn’t who he’d been dreaming of and he’d also been stupid enough to let her sneak up on him; even though that wasn’t going to prove fatal, it still rankled. But even as his fingers curled into fists, Lukas realized he couldn’t really blame the blonde for doing her job; he wasn’t all that different from her, and if there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a hypocrite. So he forced himself to relax and then reply to the shapely whore.

“Yes and no lass” he said honestly enough. “What man doesn’t want some companionship and pleasure after a hard day’s work?” The sellsword looked over his shoulder before he went on. “Especially with a beautiful woman, such as yourself.” Lukas felt the woman’s fingers digging into the tight muscles of his back and couldn’t help but appreciate her skill. “But despite all that I’m tired and hurt, so you’re going to have to find another to … warm your bed tonight.” He looked back and grinned his crooked smile honestly enough. “Given all your charms, I don’t think that’ll be a difficult task.” Then Lukas reached back and, after he gave the woman’s shapely leg a friendly squeeze, he stood and walked out of the bath house …

---

The sellsword pulled his trousers on, then collected up his other clothes and whatnot and made his way back up to their room; as he did he reflected on the day and what had just happened. Any other time he would have taken the blonde up to his room, or taken her in the hayloft, or right there in the baths. But that wasn’t what he wanted that night; wasn’t who he wanted that evening. And so as he climbed the stairs back to his room, Lukas realized the real question was: what did the woman he’d been dreaming about want that night?
 
When Lukas reached their shared room, he found that Jacelyn's things had been brought up and tucked beneath the bed that sat opposite his. Her pack sat atop her mattress, but there was no sign of the ranger. As he was coming up one set of stairs, she'd been going down the other, seeking out a hot bath for herself.

Having expected to find him in the steamy room when she arrived, she was forced to quell her disappointment at seeing the empty room, thinking he might be off enjoying other delights. That sinking feeling faded, however, when she spotted the whore fully clothed and cleaning the floor. "Working tonight, Maggie? Any takers?"

The woman flashed a smile and shrugged. "Few quick ones, though most just want their beds this eve." One pale brow lifted in invitation. "You looking for something special, dear?"

Jacelyn laughed. "Not unless you've grown a cock since the last time I stayed. Appreciate the offer, though." She tossed the woman a coin. "However, I could use a fresh towel and some of that perfumed soap you keep in the cupboard for special occasions."

Maggie gave her a wink. "Ah, want to smell sweet for someone particular? A muscular mercenary-type, perhaps?"

The ranger's blue eyes glimmered. "Can't I want to smell like a woman now and again? Sometimes is good to make them remember that you are a woman."

While the whore went to fetch her things, she began to undress and unbind her breasts. Keeping them constrained, flattening them as much as possible, helped them to fit better beneath her armor and kept them from being a nuisance on the trail. Freed, they were generous enough, though not more than a handful. Nothing like Maggie's impressive rack or even Isolde's womanly figure. She was slender of build, and such breasts would have looked strange on her, anyhow.

After scrubbing herself clean, making certain to get all the sweaty crevices, she indulged with some of the soap from Maggie's stash, which provided a thick lather that smelled of wildflowers. Jacelyn used it to clean everything, even taking down her braids to scrub the grit from her hair. It felt heavenly to be clean. Though she knew the feeling wouldn't last past the next day, she enjoyed it while she could.

---

The ranger didn't tarry long in the bath despite the tempting lull of hot water. She slipped into the room not long after Lukas had returned, having been gone only a quarter mark or so. The fresh, clean scent of the bath followed her as she entered, bringing with it the faint scent of flowers. Her trousers and her soiled shift were thrown over her arm, a towel thrown over one shoulder to catch the moisture from her hair. She wore her clean shift, which clung to her slightly damp skin in places.

Spotting Lukas, she smiled. "You were quick. Thought I'd catch you soaking in the baths. They're usually empty this late."

Tossing her dirty clothing onto the chair beside her bed, she sat on her mattress and pulled hair over one shoulder to give it a rub down with the towel. Out of her braid, her brown tresses hung nearly to her waist -- likely even longer if they'd didn't hold waves from being confined for so long.

She studied him for a moment, chin lifting slightly to indicate his arm. "Still want me to stitch that up for you?" Never mind that such an act would put them extremely close together, skin to skin, with only her thin shift to protect her modesty.
 
Lukas smiled broadly when Jacelyn walked into the room; she’d looked comely enough when they were on the road, but now she seemed positively beautiful to him. Her long wavy hair looked gorgeous and framed her pretty face perfectly, and he also couldn’t help but notice the ranger’s womanly curves through the simple shift she wore. So of course he tried to make light of how well she had cleaned up. “Excuse me milady, but you seem to have wandered into the wrong room; I’m sharing this one with a rough and tumble ranger named Jacelyn; I think the nobles’ lodging is down the hall.” Then he blinked, started his head rather theatrically and stared at the ranger wide eyed. “Oh, it’s you.” Then he wrinkled his nose a little as he caught the delightful scent of wildflowers wafting from the woman in front of him. “And what is that smell?” But the big, shite-eating smile stayed on his face throughout, so the ranger would clearly know what he was really thinking …

“Aye, I suppose I was quick" he went on. "It was a little too crowded in the baths for my taste when I was down there, so I left.” As he said the last Lukas shrugged his broad shoulders, then wondered what Jacelyn might be thinking of his appearance, as he stood there wearing only his trousers; he was a big man even without his armor on, and he knew some women found that more than a little offputting. His barrel chest was covered in a mat of hair as dark as his beard, dark fuzz grew over his muscular forearms too, and he had more scars than the one that marred his lower lip; he looked about as far from a knightly dandy as any man could, and he knew it.

Then Lukas pulled his mind back to the question Jacelyn had asked him. “Aye lass, if you don’t mind. I looked the cut over in the baths and think it’s ready to be closed up. Three stitches should do it, maybe a couple more.” The sellsword got the pouch he kept his meager medicinal supplies in, then pulled out the last of his godsfoil and clean wrappings as well as his needle and catgut, and laid them all out on the room’s small table. Then he pulled up the other chair and sat in it kitty-corner, so he could lay his injured arm on the table for the ranger to work on; as he settled in he also made sure one of his belts was close to hand, so he could bite on it if needs be. With that done he looked over at Jacelyn and grinned. “Alright lass, ready whenever you are. Let's see if you're as good with a needle as you are with a bow.”
 
Jacelyn smirked at his teasing, though didn't retort immediately. She was more than willing to play along with his little jokes, and good-natured enough to not take any offense. Rather, she threatened to chuck her pillow at him after she finished squeezing the water from her hair and pushed those damp strands over her shoulder. "Careful with that teasing, swordsman. I'm not sure you want to rile the woman that's about to stick a needle in your arm many times over."

The ranger was not immune to the sellsword's naked torso. She took a long look at him as he situated himself, allowing her eyes to rove over his large frame. She was tall, but he topped her by several inches. Rather than intimidating, she found his broad figure alluring and comforting. A man who knew how to use his hands, who could handle himself, and protected her when needed. Not that she needed any man's protection while in the field, but it never hurt to have someone you could trust at your back. Beyond being capable, he was also compassionate and considerate, all rare qualities in a man of his profession -- at least, in her experience. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through the dark curls upon his chest and feel the strength of those muscles moving beneath her hand.

Blinking back to reality, she rose to join him at the table, bringing her chair along with a bottle of spirits. She poured a measure into a small glass and dipped the needle and thread inside, letting it soak for a moment. With one foot curled beneath her, she sat and ran her hand lightly down his arm to position it and move the lamp closer. "It doesn't seem to be infected. Just a tinge of redness and irritation that I can see. No sign of poison. You should still let the healers look at it tomorrow, just in case."

Her fingers were warm on his shoulder as she peered up at the side of his face. "When you're ready. I'm sure you know this won't be pleasant."

And nor was it. The sting of alcohol she applied first burned like hell. Then came the first prick of the needle passing through the outermost layer of skin. She kept the wound pinched together while she stitched, using a cloth to blot away the blood from time to time, and spoke quietly to distract him.

"Tell me about something you love," she said. "Tell me what you'd be doing if you weren't swinging a sword. Writing books of poetry, perhaps?" She couldn't help but grin at her own joke.
 
Lukas heard the ranger’s question clearly enough and also saw the grin on Jacelyn’s face. But his mind turned to other things, memories that were hard for him to push away, and his jaw started clenching, not just from the pain of what she was doing. He thought about making up something else, but after some hesitation decided to just talk to her about what was on his mind, and maybe answer her indirectly.

“After the nobles’ crusade in Izantium went to pieces, I was taken by the Rabians” he abruptly began, in a rather flat tone of voice. “I fell from the battlements and when I woke they gave me a choice; work in their mines as a slave, or swing a sword for them as one. I decided to fight for them.” He shrugged and then looked away as he began fiddling with the belt he’d placed on the table. “At least they gave me a choice.”

“It was a strange sort of bondage. They didn’t brand me, but I had to shave my beard off and also swear to their gods.” He briefly glanced at her, then shrugged again before he turned back to his belt. “When in Rabia, do as the Rabians do. Though they don’t shave their beards.” He paused for a moment before he continued. “The discipline was harsh. The first time we did poorly in battle, one in ten from my orta was chosen by lot and put to the sword. Decimation the Imperials used to call it.” The sellsword laughed bitterly. “Close to two score of us died that day. And you can be certain we didn’t do poorly after that.”

After fingering his belt a little more Lukas went on in the same emotionless tone. “But when we did well, they treated us the same. I was fed all I could eat and cared for by their healers, who are a sight better than ours. Other slaves tended our barracks and camps, and hauled our baggage too. I was even paid if you can believe that. All we had to do was fight the Sooltan’s enemies. And win.”

The sellsword’s voice softened a little. “Over time I made friends. Learned how to read properly, not just to avoid being beaten. To fight with a blade in both hands instead of a shield.” That made him think of Mikael and he glanced at Jacelyn. “Learned what poetry is really for. And I did well. Was raised up to being a full-fledged Janissary; that was their word for us, it means ‘new warrior’ or maybe ‘new soldier.’ And so they eventually gave me a woman, though not as a wife.”

Lukas didn’t look away from Jacelyn as he told her the next part. “She was from Germania too and her name was Ilse. And she was as good at what she did as I was; I think they hoped I’d put a baby in her belly. Over time we became … fond of each other, I think. Or thought. Both so far from home. But even with all that I couldn’t, wouldn’t stay. I’d saved my money and found some people I trusted, and arranged for my … escape, desertion, whatever you’d like to call it. I asked Ilse to come with me, and she said no; said she felt safe right where she was.” The sellsword put an odd emphasis on the word ‘safe,’ but it was hard to tell what he meant by it; he didn’t look or sound angry at the woman he was talking about, and maybe even he didn’t know why he’d chosen to emphasize that word. “So I left, and here I am now, with my horse for a friend, and a sword, and this arm to swing it.”

As Lukas finished his tale he looked down at his arm; the gash was all stitched up, and quite neatly too. He felt one of Jacelyn’s bare legs touching one of his as they sat more or less side by side and he wondered what, if anything she might have made of his story, especially since she’d been born a slave. Did his decision to fight for his captors shock her? Did his acceptance of a personal pleasure slave as reward for fighting well revolt her? There was no way for him to tell, though at least she hadn’t maimed his arm as she’d worked on it. He didn’t move an inch, but instead of waiting for a reply he thought to ask the ranger a question.

“How about you lass? Has there ever been anything you’ve loved?”
 
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Jacelyn's ready smile faded a bit as he talked, having expected some of his usual frivolity and not a recollection of his troubled past. Still, she listened quietly as he recounted his tale, continuing to work on the task of stitching his arm, thinking that it would at least keep him distracted from the pain. Her attention flickered to his face now and again, a shadow of some unknown emotion crossing her features unseen, though her expression was never one of judgement. If anything, she couldn't keep the pity from her eyes. She'd known that the life of one taken so young would be hard. She'd lived that very same life herself, only in a different way.

His question didn't bring an immediate answer. She finished her task by cutting away the trailing end of the catgut with her blade and packing his wound with godsfoil before bandaging it anew. She stood to wrap the cloth about his arm, blue eyes glancing again to his face as she finished.

"Aye, I've loved a time or two, though very little and not often," she finally confessed. "I learned when I was young that anything you love can be taken from you, especially when another person comes to know what it is you love. Perhaps I could speak of them now that I am free, or as free as I have ever been, but old habits are difficult to break."

"Northern raiders take what they want from these lands. Some have taken the very land itself. That was where I was enslaved, among the northern barbarians that style themselves kings of their tiny kingdoms -- the Jarlborn. Southern merchants travel there, taking their goods to trade for furs and skins and mead and slaves. Their warriors are gifted with slave women, as well, though all are common property. The pretty ones are fought over, coveted, and protected. The rest are traded about to warm the beds of whomever desires company. I was not one of the pretty ones."

One of her hands patted him gently on the shoulder to indicate she was finished, though that touch lingered a tad too long on that muscled expanse. A gentle finger traced one of the scars that crossed his back. "You are fortunate to have escaped with your life. I tried myself, more than once, but had not the resources nor the help, and I paid the price for those attempts in blood and pain. Mathis intervened the last time, else I'd have been beaten to death."

Her voice was softer as she spoke again. "She is a fool for not escaping with you. Had I such a man, I would have taken the risk."
 
Lukas listened quietly as Jacelyn told a little more of her story; it was pretty much what he’d expected, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to hear. Still the fact she was telling it to him, and the way her hand and finger lingered on his body after she’d finished stitching him up, told the sellsword she was far from angry with him; he breathed a sigh of relief at that, and took a moment to think about all the ranger had just said.

There wasn’t much he could say in reply; she was free now, or at least no longer a slave and her past was just a bad memory, much like his. But he knew that sort of thing could linger forever, for the oddest reasons. In his case he knew it was the open silver necklace he wore along with his hammer totem that did it; it was one of the first things he’d gotten for himself after fleeing Izantium. He still wore both to remember his past, even if it hadn’t been all good. Lukas wondered about the ‘time or two’ Jacelyn had loved, but didn’t think now was the time to ask about that, or why she kept sayin’ she wasn’t pretty for that matter.

At a loss for words, the sellsword tentatively reached across the short distance between them and brushed a bit of Jacelyn’s damp hair behind her ear as gently as he could; it felt pleasantly heavy to him and since she didn’t bite his hand off he ventured a rueful smile. “Well that’s all in the past for both of us. And you’re free now. I guess I have Mathis to thank for that; another reason for me to help find his daughter.”

Lukas’ fingertips lightly traced over the outside of Jacelyn’s ear, then gently fingered one of her earlobes for a moment. “Thank you for sewin’ up my arm lass, it’s a right good job.” He paused for a moment. “An’ now that I think of it, I never properly thanked you for takin’ care o’ me up on the hill, when my arm went numb an’ was still bleedin’.”

The sellsword’s big hand drifted away from the side of Jacelyn’s head and slipped around her slender neck; he kept his touch light as his thick fingers wrapped all the way behind the back and his thumb settled on where he could feel the blood rushing though her veins. Her skin felt warm and smooth to him, and he could smell wildflowers mixed in with the odor of godsfoil and spirits that was still strong about them both. “I told ya I’d of been willing to kiss any sleepin’ princesses we came across in our travels. An’ since that didn’t happen today, I have one saved up for any wakeful princess I might owe a show of gratitude. If she wants it that is …” As he waited to see what the ranger might say to that, Lukas gently caressed her neck and happily stared into Jacelyn’s amazingly blue eyes …
 
Her skin tingled where he touched her, a dazzling burst of sensation in a tender caress that she'd not expected. His hands were so large, and yet could be so gentle. As his fingers curled about her neck, almost broad enough to encircle most of that slender column, her eyes met his across the slight space the separated them.

One thing she was not was shy -- not with him. Soldiers and warriors she knew. They were as familiar to her as breathing, and she'd tumbled with countless men until she was freed. Afterward, she was careful of her chosen partners, not wishing to disrupt Mathis' trade or be known as a whore for his guards. Any slight, whether real or perceived, could so easily upset the balance in a company, and Jacelyn didn't want to be the reason for that imbalance. So she kept her trysts to those outside of Mathis' influence, no matter how many times she was propositioned.

Lukas, however, was only loosely employed by Mathis and not part of the ordinary hierarchy. They were bound together by his oath and their quest. She pondered briefly how a joining between them might impact their travels upon the road. Would he still respect her skill? Depend upon her? And if she rejected him in that moment, would it skew them in the wrong direction?

Jacelyn barely gave the latter a moment's thought, for she knew it wasn't possible to reject the man before her... not when his eyes bored so deeply into her own and the very touch of his hand caused her skin to flush. To make things perfectly plain and clear, to set aside even the slightest moment of hesitation on his part, she did not wait for him to move. Rising from her chair, his arm acting as the perfect guide and almost naturally drawing her in, she closed the short distance between them and settled her slender frame sideways upon his lap. One of her arms slid around his shoulders to tangle in his hair, running easily through the slightly damp strands.

"I don't know any princesses," she insisted quietly. "Only perfectly ordinary women that enjoy their kisses of gratitude as much as any noble." His flattery came all too easily, though she didn't think it was insincere. It was simply that she didn't quite know how to respond in kind without making the attempt seem awkward and flat.
 
Lukas was pleasantly surprised when the ranger just plopped herself down in his lap and he couldn’t keep his brows from lifting for a moment as he grinned. By this point he was dead certain Jacelyn wasn’t the sort of woman to cozy up to any and every man who flirted with her, and he found her sudden friendliness rather … well, flattering. The feel of her sitting on his legs was comfortable and homey, but the way the side of her slender torso pressed against his chest also seemed to promise things to come; she felt very light to him in one way, but wonderfully solid and real in another, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her close. But he couldn’t keep from frowning just a little at her quiet words and felt compelled to correct her for once.

His voice was gentle as he scolded her. “There are no ordinary women in this room lass. But what I do see is a woman who is quick of mind …” two of Lukas’ fingers moved to lightly touch Jacelyn’s temple “… and strong of body.” The sellsword’s free hand shifted to squeeze the ranger’s bicep and lingered there for several moments; though smaller than his, he found her arms admirably lean and hard, no doubt from years of training with a bow and other weapons. “And she has a good, stout heart too ...” Lukas lifted his hand from Jacelyn’s arm and slowly brushed his knuckles over her breastbone; he knew her heart really wasn’t under it, but was being careful not to touch the two delightful mounds he saw under her shift, at least just yet. “ ... and is as skilled on the hunt as she is with a bow.” The sellsword grinned. “And on top of all that, she’s very, very pretty.”

Lukas’ hand moved up to slip around Jacelyn’s neck as he went on. “She has lovely long hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.” His eyes gazed into hers for several long seconds, then flicked downward. “And a mouth that the gods seem to have made for kissing. So I think I’ll give that special woman my kiss of gratitude, to pass along to a princess next time she sees one.” The sellsword paused and his voice grew stern for a moment, as if he would brook no disagreement with what he was saying. “Which’ll be the next time she peers into a looking glass.” And with that Lukas leaned forward a little, pulled Jacelyn gently towards him, and then closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers …
 
Jacelyn couldn't imagine why he continued to tell her how attractive she was, but she wasn't going to argue with him just then. There were other, far better, things on her mind. Like the feel of his lips upon her mouth, the slight tingle of lustful connection that came with it, and the strength of his hands pulling her near.

The first kiss was always an important one, for that impression could never be made again. Her first kiss from Lukas was far better than she'd ever thought it could be. Never mind that she didn't think such a moment between them could even be a possibility, not until he started spouting poetry at her that very same day, and she'd realized his mild flirtations weren't so mild. She'd only just met the man, and she'd suddenly found herself in his lap. It seemed ludicrous, ridiculous even, that an attraction could exist between them so quickly, but such incredulity couldn't possibly factor into account their shared past.

He'd been pressed into slavery, just as she'd been. That simple fact alone gave them a kinship that others, that freemen, couldn't possibly understand. It wasn't only his story, either. It was the tragedy involved, the heartbreak, and the sorrow she'd heard in his voice. Those sentiments echoed so deeply and resonated so completely within her soul, that she couldn't deny the sway his words held over her. His flattery fell on deaf ears, despite all the sincerity with which he'd delivered it. Instead, it was the personal struggle that drew her to him, for those experiences were written quite plainly upon his skin and couldn't be exaggerated with pretty words and boasting.

How long they remained suspended was anyone's guess. Jacelyn broke away only briefly to draw breath, blue eyes searching his face in wonder. Her hand caressed his beard, thumb sliding over his cheek, but did not peer at him for longer than a few heartbeats. She wanted more of him, far more than a simple kiss could satisfy, and as her lips returned to his, they parted in clear invitation. She wanted to taste him, the ale upon his tongue, and feel that tongue about her own. She wanted to meld with him and savor it all while she could. While she wasn't aggressive in her approach, she made apparent yet again that she was exactly where she wished to be, doing exactly what she wished to do.
 
A jolt ran down Lukas’ spine the first time he kissed Jacelyn. He thought her lips were wonderfully warm and full, but knew for sure that wasn’t what caused the feeling; there was a rightness to them kissing that he could sense at his very core. Maybe that was because of their shared background, and everything they’d done together during one very long day. Or perhaps they’d been lovers in some other life, brought together again by the gods; Vendite was especially fond of reuniting a lost soul with a missing mate, or so it was said. But whatever the reason Lukas began to suspect (or was it hope?) he didn’t just have a ‘special woman’ sitting in his lap, or even a princess, but rather his princess. (“I always said you were a romantic at heart effendi,” he could hear Mikael saying with a laugh. “But you never believed me …”)

When Jacelyn broke the kiss and looked at him Lukas could tell she’d felt the same thing; he saw it in her eyes and felt it in the way her hand caressed his cheek and knew he hadn’t been imaging it. So when she leaned in and kissed him and then parted her lips in clear invitation, he knew what he had to do. As he pressed his mouth against hers his tongue flicked out and lightly traced over her lips, tasting her as well as kissing her back. But that wasn’t enough for the sellsword and soon after he slipped his tongue into her warm, welcoming mouth so that it could find hers and they could begin dancing together. That finally satisfied him, at least for the moment and as he continued to inhale the delightful scent of wildflowers it was now mixed with the slight taste of chicken and ale still on her tongue, and the even more pungent flavor of her breath, and saliva, and bodily essence.

As Lukas kissed Jacelyn deeply for the first time he felt his body stirring under her lap and knew he didn’t want this evening to end with a kiss. So his free hand slipped from her cheek and stroked down over her smooth shoulder and arm, again taking delight in the softness of her skin and the firmness of the underlying muscle. Then his hand slipped inside her arm and glided along the side of her torso, gently massaging her ribs as he felt her breathing; just like with her sitting in his lap he marveled at not only at how slender she was, but also how full of life and energy she seemed. He knew he didn’t just want to be with this woman, he had to have her and as gently as he could his hand moved to settle onto one of the lovely mounds he’d spied hidden under her thin shift.

At first Lukas cupped one of Jacelyn’s breasts in his big hand, seemingly taking pleasure in just holding it and warming and protecting her, and maybe even taking possession of a part of her womanhood for a short time too. But then his fingertips began to tenderly massage the flesh of her bosom, which to him felt much softer than her hard muscle but still blessed with the firmness of youth. As his fingers explored, the big sellsword’s palm also began lightly rubbing across the tip of the ranger’s tit, as if he was trying to awaken the sensitive little nub he knew slumbered there. And as his hand worked to pleasure her, Lukas’s tongue continued to explore Jacelyn’s mouth and she could feel his manhood waking beneath her …
 
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