To The Sound of Clashing Swords (Story/Traveler)

[Traveler]

Syrus had never heard of a woman who was interested in science and numbers. He looked at Maira questioningly, especially when she said that she did not mean cross stitch or basket weaving. He would have to ask his future wife’s teachers to find out exactly what she studied.

He took a bite of their dinner, watching her as she seemed to be enjoying her meal finally.

“Traveling is something that interests me, though, but my father and mother both agree that without an escort, it would be out of the question…” She trailed off, something lighting up in her face. She raised her face back up and grinned suddenly.

At first Syrus thought she was going to agree to travel with them and learn some useful skill to explain her presence. The idea delighted him; to be able to travel with Maira, to get to know her as they shared in the duty of protecting their kingdom, building memories together that they would reminisce about with their children…but then she said, “Unless they thought that I was traveling with you, when indeed I would not be,” and all thought of shared experiences adventure disappeared.

He listened to her plans, his fork slowly settling onto the plate as all hunger left him. Oh, this was just…precious.

“So, let me understand. You want me to further add to the lies I am living by telling your parents, who are entrusting your safety and happiness to me, that you and I are traveling together.” He leveled his gaze at the red-headed minx. “When in fact, you will be traveling….alone? Or with companions of your choosing…” he waved a hand dismissively at her. “What? Who? Maybe you’ll join the carnival? Because that would be a healthy place for a lady to be, alone. Vulnerable. Or perhaps you already have some traveling companion picked out? A bard, perhaps? A magician?”

He threw up his hands in defeat. “I…I have no proper words to explain how ludicrous your plan is, that I would take place in pretending that I’m traveling with you when I’m possibly on the other side of the kingdom from you!” The inhaled, the last sentence going on longer than he had planned it to go.

“I – I can’t, I can’t,” he shook his head. “There’s no way I’d, just…no. We’d just meet up at your family’s estate?! What if you’ve been raped or murdered…or sold off to slavers. Maira, that’s a horrible idea. Do you know what happens to pretty women traveling alone?”

That was it; Syrus had to tell Ser Williams at least who he was, and what he was doing as Ser Edwain. And possibly, in that way, figure out a path where Maira could enjoy her traveling in a safe manner, and Ser Williams would be reassured that his daughter was under the protection of her fiancé and not hanging out with some rowdy knights will more brawn than propriety.

~ * ~​

No one had every gasped his name as sensually was Sienna had, and when the little sex kitten arched her back and moaned against his touch, Ricard wondered if this side of her was going to put other gypsies to shame. Her body was eager, her teeth pulling at him as if she wanted to devour him with every orifice on her form.

She gasped that she wanted him. Her hand moved to his, bringing it under her tunic to her breast, as she claimed she was feeling better. Ricard smiled crookedly. “You are feeling better,” he agreed, meeting her eager kiss with his own. His hands began to pull off the last of the clothes on her body, happy to forget about her injuries if she was ready.

“You are such a lustful…” he thrust his hips against her hand as they probed and played. “…sexy, wanton woman…” He felt his finger edging into the tight entry of her sex, and the slick response of her flesh as she grew more passionate. She seemed ready. Her body was ready. He was ready. Ricard pulled his kiss down her throat, biting and pulling possessively, on her skin and leaving marks behind that would last a day or so before fading.

He nudged her knees apart with his legs as he moved above her, his lips still exploring her body chest. He raked teeth lightly across the soft mound of her pert breasts, the capture the dark pink nipple between his lips. He pulled on her nipple as he swirled his tongue across its tip. As he did, he slid the side of his shaft to nestled against the warm wetness of her feminine valley. “Put me where you want me,” he directed, as he moved his lips back up to kiss the edges of her mouth. He rocked his hips to nuzzle his rod more firmly between her nether lips, then slid his cock down and up, running its length across her clit and opening, feeling her bucking her body against his. “You want this,” it wasn’t a question. He wanted to scratch her itch. “You need this…I need this…” he gasped, groaned, and then let out a breath, “I want you. I want all of you,” he said, his eyes growing dark and hungry.

When he felt like she was craving him he brought his mouth back to hers to still her gasps. He tilted his hips, nudging her opening with the thick velveteen tip of his cock…and pressed in, breaking past her virginal wall in a firm, steady thrust that he hoped would be more relief than pain for his little gypsy warrioress.

He began to slowly move inside of her, paying attention to whether she needed a slower pace or wanted more of him faster. He took his cues from her response, and as soon as he felt that she wasn’t lying about ‘feeling better,’ he began to meet her passion with a vigor of his own. Strong legs, abdomen and back pistoned himself into her, the sound of his body slapping against hers acting like a cadence to urge him on.

 

[Story]

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Maira could not help herself when she snorted at his response to her proposition. At least she was not about to blow up in anger. Instead, a truly knavish grin lit up her face, gone in the next moment, soon to be replaced by a giggle that she tried to suppress behind the goblet of wine that she lifted up to her lips.

Somehow, she managed to contain herself by the time she had returned it to the table, replaced by an expression that was almost haughty, one brow raised.

“Perhaps I should dress as a lad, then. That seems to be working well within the favor of one of your contestants,” she remarked off-hand. “And travel with a handful of other lads. But that also will not do, will it? You would like me to traipse around with men who like to tote around swords and cause violence. I despise war and fighting; is there not a more diplomatic approach to it all than senseless bloodshed? Why not instead of fighting over land and territory, we negotiate ways that are mutually beneficial - goods, services, tradeways…”

She trailed off, frowning to herself, then ducked her head with another smile. Yes, she and the prince had very different mindsets. Or at least that was the impression that she was already gathering.

“Though I do like the idea of joining the carnival. I could glue some horse hair to my face and say that I am a bearded lady. Would you think that I am … a pretty woman then?”

She could not help then grin again and this time she did not try to hide it as she waved her fork at him. “I like that you are so flustered, Prince Syrus. It is far better than your temper. Tell me, since my fantasy of traveling the roads of innovation as a woman are ludicrous, what are your dreams that are being thwarted because of your station and… current circumstance of being all of a prince and betrothed as well as playing at being a knight when you know that someday, according to antiquated tradition, you will need to stop that which you enjoy and become something else?”

She looked down again, studying her food like it was something to contemplate. Then, in a more hushed voice, she murmured, “Do you not think, just a little bit, that it is ridiculous that we are able to dine so richly while there are far more in the world that struggle and starve? And instead of spending coffers on a better system to feed everyone, so instead spend them by taking what little most people have on military efforts?”

Maira did not expect him to understand, or even really to respond, but once she had started speaking, she found that she could not stop. She stopped now, though, and went back to picking at her meal.

~~~

There was a thrill of excitement that was separate from the lust that coursed through her. It was a feeling of conquest, in a way, that she had gotten this man into her tent, twined naked and passionate with her. And though she refused to think much on what happened after this night, there was a longing that was already developing, an expectation that these nightly trysts would continue whilst they shared a tent while she trained to be a full fledged knight.

It was not something that she had imagined at the start of this tournament. It was not even something that she had imagined if she would have won it any other way.

And right then Sienna could not do very much thinking to begin with.

His hands were a distraction on her body, sending a myriad of sensation throttling through her nerves, only to leave her bereft, aching, her body squirming underneath his like it sought more of the same. A groan of frustration caught in the back of her throat as she had to pull her lips away from his, her hand away from his cock that kicked against her hand as he pulled the tunic up and over he head, leaving her dark hair even more tussled as it was discarded.

She was as nude as he now. Despite her forwardness, Sienna still blushed and grinned in her own self-conscious way before it was wiped away by his lips, left alone by her own, blazed their own path against caramel skin. Sienna’s head kicked back, the generous petals parting as a low moan sounded with the upward arch of her back, the strain of her neck as his teeth and tongue followed a path of his own choosing to one straining breast.

Sienna’s thighs quivered on either side of his hips, her knees bending, the skin of her legs and thighs running along his own before hooking at his hips. She barely recognized the needy noises that she was making once his lips plucked her nipple, her back arching enough to push her nipple deeper into his mouth. Only to groan her frustration at him when he pulled his mouth away, leaving her nipple hard and aching, chilled by the way the air played against the wet from his mouth.

The rest of her was quivering and her hand was clumsy as she pushed his cock between her legs, grateful that he had more finesse of what to do than she did. Her hand was trembling as it released his shaft, feeling the press of him against her aching core. Her clit throbbed and her hips bucked against him as he slid his length against her, coating himself with her juices.

Her hand found his hip then, nails digging into his skin. Her mouth was hungry as it met his again, her lips desperate as they clung and moved against his, bruisingly hard as she struggled to stop the shaking of her body.

She knew what was coming when she felt his hips shift forward, but that still did not stop her from tensing underneath him, her mouth tearing away so that her teeth sunk into his shoulder to stifle her gasp of shock as he thrust forward.

He stretched her. There was an ache, a mild discomfort, as she felt his entirely sink into what felt like was her very pulse. Her thighs clutched against his as she unlatched her mouth from his shoulder and removed her gripping hand from his hip, let her other come around his neck, her other arm joining in.

Shuddering, she turned her face and nuzzled the hollow of his throat, her moan vibrating there as he shifted inside her enough that the ache turned into a burn that throbbed in pleasure as he dragged himself backward, slid forward again with less resistance than the first time, her arousal gripping around him.

Sienna bucked her hips by the third time, her voice another one of those frustrated moans that was her sounding board of wanting more.

 

[Traveler]

The more Maira talked, the more Syrus thought that she was a sheltered woman-child who knew nothing about the challenges of real life. She mentioned one of his contestants dressing as a lad and he flinched, but didn’t have time to ask her what she meant. She accused him and his fellow knights of toting around swords and causing violence, as if their purpose was to cause strife and not to prevent it. Then she dismissed the effort the king had done to create beneficial trade routes and agreements, claiming that they were fighting over land and territory only, and the insult to his family’s rule stung like a hornet’s bite.

He couldn’t fathom how she would think that traveling alone as a woman was safe. Then she tried to compare that to his double life as a knight, and he just shook his head. The woman hadn’t listened to a single word he had said about his reasons. Syrus doubted that restating them would matter to her at all.

“You know what, Lady Maira? You’re right. You should go explore the world. It’s obvious you live in a world where idealism fixes all of the world’s problems, and just saying ‘boo’ will stop the greediness of highwaymen and feed the poor, so why don’t you go run around the countryside dressed as a boy?” He scoffed. “As if you could pull it off, but hey – obviously you know better than I, from inside your protected walls with your father’s knights surrounding you.”

He took a sip of his wine and leaned back in the chair. “Just don’t implicate me in your crazy schemes, Maira. I already have enough of my own crap to make up for. I don’t need to be parlay to your rape or death on the streets while you’re chasing after your adventure. And if you return from it all alive, we’ll figure out our eventual marriage -- once you’ve got this adventure under your, uh…belt.”

~ * ~​

Ser Ricard groaned lustfully as he moved within Sienna’s tight, nubile body. He felt her face at his throat and the vibration of her moan as she bucked against him and pulled him with her hands. He felt the pull of her hot sheath throbbing about his shaft, and it was unlike anything he had felt before. She had vexed him in her attempt to become a knight initiate. Then she had surprised him, intrigued him, and now…now she was completely undoing all reservations he had about supporting her deception.

The tight squeeze of her body was exquisite pain and pleasure. He wondered at her failure to cry out in pain as he initially thrust his body into her, impaling her with his desire, taking from her the one thing that could never be restored. Her innocence had been given to him so sweetly, so completely, that he was completely smitten by her eagerness to open herself to his desires.

His body moved in her, ridges and thick intrusion pressing her open, pulling away, pushing in again and nudging her cervix, bumping her womb in hungry, primal need. His hands gripped her shoulders, restrained raw power holding her in place while his cock stretched and pummeled her core, siphoning her body for every erotic shiver and moan he could pull from her lips. “Sienna…” he groaned her name, his eyes dark beneath fluttering lashes as he panted, lips ajar, panting softly in rhythm to the pistoning of his thick manhood in the tight cylindrical grip of her sex.

 

[Story]

This union was doomed. The more Maira sat across from the Prince, the more the realization dawned on her. He did not even have to speak; she could see it there in his eyes. Indeed, as soon as he opened his mouth again, indignation rose up, turning her eyes into smoldering storms.

Her utensils dropped to her plate with a clatter as she fought her own emotions. With as much dignity as she could muster, she wiped her hands on the cloth that was set aside for her, then she gripped her goblet of wine. Instead of sipping dainty like, she raised it to her lips and swallowed the rest of it down.

That, at least, calmed her nerves enough that she released her breath in a sigh and narrowed her eyes at the Prince. “Do not think that you can shame me again, Your Grace; you have already succeeded once, and that was all that I needed to know not to feel so again by you,” she rebutted, her voice holding an unnatural chill to it.

Then she pushed back her chair, stood, her mouth a thin line as she regarded him. “At least if I disappear, you will be free to seek out your own match without feeling honor bound to this one,” she remarked as she turned, dropping a quick curtsy as she did, then stepped away from their evening to rush back along the garden path and to her escape inside.

There was already a plan forming. She did not wish to stay confined any longer.


~~~


Sienna could not catch her breath, which had become a series of ragged pants and sultry gasps that ended on moans that scorched her throat and had her scrambling at him. Need, lust, a desire that tossed her train of thought under its waves so that she could not think and she could only feel replaced anything else. The lithe frame underneath his writhed, undulated, rocked up into his thrusts that caused her to cry out, hot against his ear as she lifted her head and dragged her mouth against his neck, across the line of his jaw, her teeth catching the lobe of his ear and tugging.

The noises that she made she could barely decipher, but they spoke of the aching need that he sparked every time his girth scraped against her too tight walls that grasped and clung around him. It was almost uncomfortable, the way he moved, like she might split. Only instead of splitting her inner walls stretched to accommodate and only clutched at him with their molten slick, grasping him deeper inside her until she was crazy with wanting more.

“I cannot.. I want…” she mewled against his skin, head falling back, then wrenching forward again as her own darkened eyes sought his, her lips pressing hard against his mouth, kissing him with the desperation that she was feeling. “Please…” the cry was keening, followed with the fact that she hooked her thigh through his leg and anchored herself against him so that her pelvis pressed into his and she rode up against him until there was friction against the pulsing bundle of nerves.

She dragged her mouth away from his, moaning again, her breath ragged as she ducked her head against his shoulder, sinking her teeth into muscle as a strangled cry erupted from her throat as an especially hard jolt of pleasure shuddered up her spine. “Ricard, please…” she hissed afterwards, head turning so that she could nuzzle her burning cheek against him.

 

[Traveler]

They were doomed. Syrus could see it in the blaze of Maira’s eyes and the set of her teeth. He saw it in her hands when she discarded her utensils with a clatter, and even more so when she gulped her wine down like a seasoned pirate. Maybe she would fit in outside the castle – after all, she had the hot-tempered personality of a gypsy and the fire of a sea wench. She might handle herself just fine. He didn’t want to be part of the deception, and as long as she understood that, they would get along just fine.

She almost sounded hurt by his dismissal of her plans. She goaded him about what might happen if she disappeared, and as she made to leave he called after her, “Send a letter or a body. I can’t break the engagement without it!” Then he shook his head as he wiped off his fingertips, then discarded the cloth napkin on the table. It was a shame; the dinner was only half-finished, but he could not remain there when his guest had departed.

His return to the great hall was more leisurely than Lady Maira’s. Halfway there he regretted not taking the bottle of wine along with himself. He could have used another drink.

The dining hall was still full of people, though some had left the table to begin to dance. He looked around for Maira but didn’t see her right away. Pausing to greet those at the banquet as he went, Syrus began to meticulously pick his way towards the Knight General. It was time to come clean to his commander at least, and perhaps they could figure a method for Syrus and Edwain to slowly become one.

---

The little knight-to-be wriggling beneath Ser Ricard seemed to not know how to let herself tip over the edge and experience her full release. As she begged, panted, pulled and bucked, Ricard realized she was desperately fighting for her culmination of pleasure; she just didn’t know exactly how to get there.

Her leg hooked around his thigh, and he reached over them to cup her ass from behind as she mewled her urgent plea for completion. “So wet…mmm, yes, I want it too…” His fingers touched the wet crease of her body, felt he silky flush of her juices sliding between them. He continued his thrusting, feeling the mushroom head of his shaft nudge against and around her cervix. “Sienna, let yourself go…fall with me,” he panted. Ricard wanted desperately to finish inside of her, but even he knew the foolishness of such an indulgence. Even so, his fingertips sought out the hard nub of her clitoris, sliding over it softly, guiding her with a touch that was abrasive enough to excite her but not enough to make her numb or overly sensitive.

“Please, Sienna…come with me…” He would wait until he felt the milking of her sheath around his shaft, until it was much too close to risk spilling himself into her, and when, or if, he felt her sweet release, he would pull himself out and sandwiched his needy shaft between their bodies as he felt the hot thread of his orgasm pulsating through his cock.

 

[Story]

What Syrus likely had not wagered on was the sheer stubbornness that was Maira. Or that she would take his every word to heart. And that she would, truly, leave with her chin jerked high and that fire in her eyes -- just to prove that she could and just to prove his underhanded goading wrong.

So where he might have returned to the dinner, to the gaggle of people that were finishing their dishes, moving onto dessert and cordials, sweets, wines and senseless talks…

...Maira had escaped back to her room. Not to pout or even to rage, but to pack with shaking hands and a drive that blinded any other sense of reason. She felt like a stone had been dropped into the pit of her stomach and there was panic that rushed her through what her mind was processing.

She knew that she could leave through the Romani camp, that they would take her. Especially as she hefted a bag over her shoulder and left her chambers, careful to avoid any servants that loitered upstairs where her room was. She would need to go down the hall and into her work space, to grab a few items. Then she would need to change. Going as a lad had its potential, but Maira had a different game plan in mind.

She only intended to hide her identity as the Knight General’s daughter, not her breasts. She had no intention of fighting in tournaments. Or fighting at all. She would take a page out of the Prince’s book instead. And while she had no fey glamours to color her hair, she had dyes to darken it; she had make up that would darken her complexion, smooth out the freckles.

So while her father and his guests celebrated downstairs, Maira was busy upstairs. Hopefully, the Prince would expect her to tantrum. To pout. Lock herself in her room like a simpering sod and avoid everyone. And hopefully - he would be so disgusted by that idea, that he would not come up looking for her. Since he would not be complicit to her deceit, she also hoped that the words that came out of his mouth when her parents would no doubt ask for her would not urge them to check on their daughter too soon before the night was done.

~~~

Sienna had lost herself to the lust of her own body. Any passerby would know the sounds coming from the tent was a result of their coupling and she did not have a space in her brain to comprehend what it would mean if one of the knights put two and two together. She stayed in the Romani camp because of it; her identity was at least mostly hidden there. Had some semblance of privacy.

She could only breathe in ragged pants as she tore her mouth from his shoulder, crying out as his calloused fingers bushed between their bucking bodies, stroking her up until they found the source of her frustration between them. Her wordless sounds were the only thing she could muster to encourage him as she pressed her sweat damp forehead against his, eyes heavy and dark with her need as she sought his gaze, then sought his lips with her own, pushing hard in time with the way she pushed and rubbed against him.

Until she felt the build up that turned her motions wilder, uncontained. She slid back down into her bedding, neck stretching and eyes closing as she cried out. Her nails raked him, grabbed at his shoulders, her pelvis shooting up so that she felt his cock bury deep. Then her toes curled as she shattered around him, her sex tightening then convulsing as he sent her over the edge with her legs still wrapped around his hips, tugging him inside her.

He would barely have the chance to pull himself out. Indeed, Sienna was surprised at the hot spill of his seed on her belly while her own orgasm clenched her insides and left her panting underneath him, spent.

 

[Traveler]

Prince Syrus felt his grandfather’s notice, and though it caused his heart to falter, he chose to remain calm for the sake of the kingdom. Yes, he had potentially pissed off his fiancée, but there was more at stake in this than the overly sensitive feelings of a spoiled noblewoman. There was much more at stake, and at the moment his thoughts were turned towards undoing his deceit and walking forward with truth insofar as who he was and who he would be.

When he reached the Knight Commander the expected question came up; where was Lady Maira?

“She needed some time alone,” Syrus assumed, “to take in the news.” His face softened into a friendly smile. “Ser Willams…could I trouble you to spare me a few minutes of your time? Privately?” After promising to dance with the Knight General’s wife for ‘stealing her man away, as well as her daughter,’ the prince and the man whose birthday and retirement were being celebrated managed to find their way out to the privacy of one of the many stone terraces beyond the great hall.

“Knight General, I have a confession to make,” Syrus began. “I…” he half suspected the man already knew. “I never wanted to be judged by my title and not by my abilities,” he started. He met the knight’s eyes and held his gaze. “I competed for knighthood under an alias, thinking that I would reveal my true name if I were selected,” he said. “But then the call came to go to the south and secure those borders. I feared I would be told to remain, so I kept my deception in place.” He wet his lips nervously, not wanting to feel the disappointment he was certain would come from this man he so dearly admired.

“I…It’s time that I begin to meld my alias to myself, Ser William. I wanted to ask your permission, and advice. Your daughter knows, and that is one of the reasons she has left the dinner…to think over what we have discussed.” His blue eyes swept over his future father-in-law’s face. “Ser, I’m also Ser Edwain Slayte. I don’t know how to reconcile the two without losing the trust of my fellow knights.”

---

Ser Ricard had come close to spilling his seed inside her needy, hot womb. Her legs had tightened around him so strongly that he barely contained himself. He struggled between his concern that she would not complete her own release and that he would go too far, possibly impregnating her and ruining her chances of reaching knighthood.

But oh…how he wanted to! He had never wanted to be ‘one’ with anyone as much as he had the dark-haired, mischievous-eyed little tyrant.

“Oh God! Sienna,” he both cried and growled, his body tensing as wave after wave of painfully sweet release flooded pearlescent fluids upon her tanned abdomen. He gasped, his body no longer his own. And when the full storm had passed, he almost collapsed on his elbows beside her. “Ah,” he said, rolling to his side partially and gasping in delight. His forehead met hers, his lips only an inch from her plump, sweet mouth, and his long lashes parting so that he could look into the dark pools of her soul.

It was wonderful. She was wonderful. He moved his long legs alongside hers, felt the twitch that echoed the remembrance of their pleasure, and grinned. “So…how do you feel now?” he asked breathlessly. His own heart pounded still against his chest, its rapid pace not slowing despite the completion of their intercourse. He peppered kissed on the corner of her lips, down her neck, and back again until he slid his tongue once more between her pink pillows, a final treat before they would rest for the night.

As his heartbeat began to slow he looked down into her pert, heart-shaped face. “Did I…was the pain of it worth the pleasure?”

 

[Story]

Locke’s gaze fell heavy on his grandson as he returned to the dining room bereft of the Lady Moira. As if he sensed something had gone amiss but was not going to step in line with the affairs of their private matters. Time would tell if they worked out their differences and the Farseer saw too much to want to interfere anymore than he needed to.

He had been wrong in what he Saw, he knew; visions of any kind had different interpretations and could be changed. So while Locke’s silence allowed for the Knight General to be beckoned into a semi-private conversation with the Prince, it did not shield anyone from his scrutiny.

He noticed the surprise brighten the older man’s eyes as Syrus revealed the truth of himself, though Locke looked away in dismissal when the Knight General tried to seek his answers from the King to see if he knew. Only to swivel his attention back to the Prince and squint at him, to see beyond the glamour.

“I-- Well--” He fumbled for words, his voice gruff with storms and confusion. Only he didn’t have the opportunity to finish his train of thoughts before the doors on the far side of the dining hall crashed open with a force that was meant to draw attention away from the hush of the King’s guests and force everyone’s attention on the cause.

Two figures waltzed into the room as if it were their very right to do so, but four more followed them in, fanning out on either side of the wide door frame that was kept open. Two more, wearing the King’s colors, pushed in after them wearing the armor of one of the guards. The younger one of the two guards looked harried as his dark eyes darted to the shocked faces around, spluttering as he gestured helplessly to the two figures ahead of him, “Y-your highness, Jarls--”

“His Royal Highness knows who we are.” It was the woman of the two that cut in, her voice as icy as the pale braid of hair plaited close to her scalp, its length dragging over one shoulder and resting just at her collar. Her posture cut as intimidating as her voice. Tall, especially for a woman -- six feet, perhaps even an inch or so more, and dressed in leathers and light armor of her kin.

As well as being utterly filthy.

She wore the road on her skin, on her leathers, showing the room that she had not stopped to present herself better than what she was. Pale underneath the layer of it on her face, indicating her northern roots, as well as the glacial blue of her eyes. An angry red welt that had nearly healed marred one cheek.

The man next to her towered over even her and wore similar garb. Bulky in the way someone who knew only hard labor and war, he was a massive force to her razor tight ferocity. And despite the grim covering both of them, the likeness was there, though he bore a chiseled face while hers were strong angles and planes. Both had a patching pair of axes strapped to their hips.

Locke, to his credit, rose up slowly from where he sat at the head of the table, a wary smile crooking his face. “Jarls Björnström, what a… surprise.”

The woman did not bother with any kind of pretenses or niceties as she declared, “Our father is dead. There is trouble that is traveling south as we speak. My brother and I rode ahead to warn you.”


~~~


Sienna’s breath was still coming in ragged pants when the knight rolled to the side, the residue of euphoria starting to fade around the edges as she came back down from that particular high. Her stare wandered from where it had settled, awe-struck, on his face to the glistening seed that he had spilled across her stomach. Blushing, and yet smiling, she turned her face so that her nose bumped against his.

She tipped her mouth against his with the slightest shift, her mouth a tentative caress until he deepened the kiss again, causing her toes to curl and her thighs to quiver, her moan revealing as much into his mouth as he teased her with his tongue.

She pulled back with a gasp and shifted closer to him, head tucking right up against his shoulder, her cheek hot against the bare skin there. It also allowed her to avert her gaze as she squeezed her thighs shut. Now that the pleasure was fading into the background, she was noticing the ache that pulsed in her core, the soreness of her body in the aftermath.

“I would do it again,” she offered coyly in response to his inquiry. Did Ricard sound worried? She dared to peek up at him from lowered lashes, a teasing grin on her lips. “It was not so painful as I thought it would be,” she admitted. “There are girls - women - who say that the first time with a man can be terrible if they do not wish for their pleasure, but…” She lifted her brows, grinned again - a shy grin - and shifted again so that she could plant a kiss against his chest. “I did not hurt you, did I…?” She teased again, grinning against his skin.

 

[Traveler]

The doors burst open, drawing everyone’s attention to the entry and every hand to their hilts. Syrus moved closer to the king, fearing that someone might have chosen this moment to attack him. He took in the wild dress and boldness of the Jarls and the disrepair of their garb. He felt, more than saw, his grandfather slowly rise, apparently more amused than bothered by this outburst.

As the Jarls Björnström, brother and sister he supposed, spoke, he felt a calm stillness come over him.

War. They were speaking about war, and just as everyone was finally getting used to the feeling of peace. Syrus looked to the Knight General – tomorrow’s festivities would be cut short. Their new recruits unable to enjoy the fruits of their championship. This meant that they would be rounding up their soldiers, fortifying the city, and sending men north to stop the trouble before it reached their walls.

He held his position and returned his gaze to the Jarls. Whatever other news they brought, he wanted to hear it. The time for worrying about engagements and women were over. Tomorrow he would speak to Maira – tonight he needed to be here.

---

Ricard smiled wryly as Sienna said she would do it again, then complimented him about her experience. He flushed with pleasure at her approval.

“What, you hurt me?” he scoffed. “I do not think so, little scamp. Though it was quite a tight squeeze,” he said, rolling towards her and pulling her body closer. “I rather like tight squeezes.” As he propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at her pert, mischievous eyes, he smiled and shook his head slowly. “What am I going to do with you?” he reached up to brush a strand of her wavy hair from her cheek and then leaned over to kiss that spot near her dimple.

“Mmm…” he hummed, moving to kiss along the sweet curve of her neck. “You are going to be the best tent mate in history,” he swore, his lips and the tip of his tongue grazing along the curve of her ear. This assignment, and this woman, was about to change his world.

---

Jacoby sighed happily, the toss of dark hair across his chest as Ileana slept lulling him into joining her. They had been up most of the night, enjoying each other’s bodies and passion, until he had spent himself so much that he ached. He slowly entangled himself from her lovely, tanned arms, kissed her forehead gently, and eased out of the bed.

Dressing as quietly as he could, he cast one last appreciative look at the woman who had brought him so much pleasure and asked for nothing in return, then slid out of her tent and into the night air. The sky was clear and a million stars shined in his line of sight. The Romani camp was quiet; most everyone was asleep or taking pleasure in the bodies at their sides. The large bonfires were nothing more than glowing embers, and as he walked, winding his way between tents and wagons, he was grateful for what he had been given in the last few days.

A friend in Sienna. A purpose in his acceptance as a night. And a joyous memory in the arms of a woman more beautiful than any he had ever held. He felt like he had just inherited a kingly gift.

When he rounded the next tent he saw a dark haired woman carrying a bundle on her back. Jacoby paused. She looked like one of the gypsies with her tanned skin and dark hair, and he grinned at her crookedly. She might have stolen items in her bag, but he wasn’t quite a knight yet.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice low in the dark. “You look…lost.”