Written by Giovanna
Serena rested her cheek in her palm, her eyes glazed as she remembered the man who she loved – physically, mentally, and spiritually: tall, more than six feet; unruly black hair that fought its restraining band; dark eyes that could bore right through a person; sensuous hands. Serena would always remember the image of Arram Draper. No lover –and she’d had plenty! – could ever compete with him. No man could be so caring and considerate.
She let her heavy eyes close as she remembered the last few hours with him, before he’d been named a traitor to Orzone – before he’d run away....
The huge room had filled up with many people over the last few minutes. Nobles, mages, women, men, and slaves took up their ‘duties’ – the duties one did during a banquet.
Serena had been very considerate about her image. She had spent an hour in front of the mirror, using her abundant Gift to work little things, to subtly change this and that. The result was astounding!
Her ruddy brown hair – the color of pure black chocolate, Arram often murmured – was pinned into a whole network of braids and curls, held together by strings of gold. Her face was only slightly painted, as her tawny skin needed no additional coloring. But her full, soft lips had an emerald sheen, as did her eyelids and cheeks.
Serena’s seamstresses from the Copper Isles had been working hard with her dress. Now, it bedecked her in its glory. The dark jade-colored silk draped down Serena’s figure, accenting full breasts and round hips. The overdress – Serena thought of it as an overlong corset! – was a golden material. It was drawn tightly; making the abdomen area of the gown(s) fit Serena like a second skin. Both necklines were low.
Once out in banquet, the herald had ushered her to her place; the table reserved for unwed, not-too-important noble ladies. She was placed between a tall and gangly redhead and Varice Kingsford.
Serena snickered. That blonde slut had been Arram’s lover for a while, but he broke it off when Serena came to the scene. She doesn’t hold a candle against me, Serena thought smugly and began eating her dinner.
The entire time, she had been on the lookout for Arram. When she finished dessert, Serena unhappily concluded that he wasn’t coming. She joined the other nobles as they danced, muttering soft “thank yous” whenever the men complimented her appearance. She was used to them; being a princess from the Copper Isles had its nice sides. For one thing, people always tried to be on your good side, not wanting to awaken the insane blood that ran in the Copper Islanders.
Serena excused herself during a slow dance. She went to the refreshments table and grabbed a glass of wine. Then she made her way to the balcony (*A/N don’t all banquet rooms seem to have them? *) and leaned against the ‘doorway’ that was cushioned by drawn curtains.
Being so drawn to her drink, Serena didn’t notice the arm snake out from under the velvet curtains and wrap itself around her trim waist. She swallowed a gasp of surprise when the arm pulled her outside. Then the arm’s owner struggled out from the curtains, grinning.
“Arram Draper!” Serena huffed, pretending to be angry as she straightened her appearance. “When will you grow up?”
“When I feel like it, Chocolate,” Arram replied quietly, a wicked sparkle in his brown eyes. He pronounced the word ‘chocolate’ as shocola – it was a word in Fenecian (*A/N that’s an ancient tongue I’ve based on French. *) that Arram called her by. It meant…*no duh!* chocolate.
“Still,” Serena said, “you need to control yourself.”
That was a mistake, she thought when Arram pushed her to the wall, holding her tightly as he covered her in kisses. Or not…Her eyes closed and she moaned softly, giving herself up to pure passion. Pure animal magnetism is more like it.
Arram pulled away after a few minutes, sighing regretfully. Serena pulled her eyes opened. “Why’d you stop?” she demanded.
“Sorry, Chocolate. One thing’s about to lead to another. We can’t have a coupling in the middle of the balcony during a banquet, can we?” He twined a stray lock of Serena’s hair through his long fingers.
Serena sighed. “Where’ve you been, Arram? You’ve missed a wonderful meal!” She fixed him with a glare, her chocolate brown eyes fixed on his.
“Serena,” he began softly; her stomach dropped a mile, hearing a nasty tone in his voice.
“Yes?”
“I’m leaving.”
“WHAT!?!” she yelped; Arram placed two fingers on her lips to silence her. “What do you mean, Arram?” she asked more civilly.
He took her to the edge of the balcony and sat down. Serena joined him, her heart thudding loudly.
“Remember that spell I discovered?”
“Which one? You discover a dozen everyday,” Serena muttered sullenly. Arram glared at her.
“I’m talking about the simulacrum-weaving spell. Orzone demanded that I give it to his Gifted assassins, so they could go to Tortall, visit Lord Sinthya without causing suspicion, blah blah blah… Anyway, I refused. I think that it’s positively ghastly to let Gifted killers make copies of themselves that contain a part of their Gifts. Imagine the chaos if the constructing of the copy was go astray!” Arram sighed dramatically. Serena shook her head.
“So, what’s the problem?” she snapped impatiently.
“I disobeyed Orzone.” (*A/N Is it Orzone or Ozorne; my copy of Emperor Mage is in storage so I can’t exactly check.*)
Serena gasped in horror. “You idiot! You don’t refuse the Emperor Mage anything! He gets what he wants, when he wants.” She paused as a thought flew through her mind. “Still, that’s not so bad. You always disobey the Emperor.”
“I destroyed the spells. I eliminated their proof.”
Here, Serena’s stomach might as well have gone out of her through the heels of her feet. “Not only did you disobey the Emperor, but you did away with his desire so he can never find it?” She grabbed onto Arram’s wrists and clutched them tightly.
“Chocolate, you don’t know the power of the spells-“
“But the Emperor does!” she yelled, frightened. “Arram, I thought you were smarter than this! You…you…you’re a mixture between a psycho and a total airhead! You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“That,” Arram said patiently, “is why I’m leaving.”
Serena stopped babbling and listened.
“Orzone has deemed me a traitor and has soldiers looking for me. That’s why I didn’t go to the banquet and that’s why I have to go. I just came to say goodbye.”
Serena’s eyes widened; she threw herself at him and buried her head under his. “I- take me with you!”
“You’re a Princess from the Copper Isles; I’m just a poor mage, hunted for treason. Don’t worry; I’ll be back when this blows over.” He kissed her. Then he stood and began to weave a complex spell – or, he tried to begin. Serena had started to babble again. Loudly.
He placed his index finger on her lips with a curt command. Serena shut up and started kissing it, working her way up his arm and finishing on his lips. After a moment, Arram pushed away, a hint of impatience in his face.
“I need to go, Chocolate,” he said.
“Take care. Don’t forget to come back. Remember that I love you. I’ll always love you and-“
Arram glared with her with such an expression of impatience and disgust on his face that she stopped her speaking.
“I have to go,” he murmured. With a last kiss, he whispered a word and disappeared.....
Serena shook herself from the memories, but let one last thought run through her mind. That night, the soldiers caught him, imprisoned him, and then he got away. I don’t know where, how, when…but he’s okay; he’s going to come back now that Kaddar is Emperor of Carthak.
She got up, hearing her husband’s return. She shivered and glanced at the hour-candle. It was late evening – her husband, a Scanran prince, usually awaited her in bed at this time. She dreaded it.
One day, I’m going to rid of him and get back my Arram. This I swear by Mithros. So mote it be.
>>>>>@~@<<<<<
The young woman known as Daine stretched in bed. Yawning hugely, she flicked her eyes to the figure next to her. As if he knew she was looking at him, Numair snored. Daine chuckled and nudged him.
“Wake up!” she whispered.
He mumbled something incomprehensible. Daine chuckled again. Planting a kiss on his cheek, she climbed out of bed and got dressed.
Numair kicked out in his sleep.
Daine threw a withering glance at him then scribbled a note.
Numair, my sweet,
I’ve gone to talk to the King about the banquet-dress-up-thing. I’ll be back by lunch, the latest.
Yours forever,
Daine
She left the parchment under his nose, knowing that he wasn’t going to find it otherwise, then left. She made her way to Jonathan’s study, trying to remember what she going to say to him. All too soon, Daine found herself in front of Jonathan’s door.
She knocked.
“Come in,” a male voice called.
Daine drew a deep breath and entered, rewarded by the handsome sight of King Jonathan, splendid in a thick, royal blue robe that was tied over his long sleeping shirt. But Numair’s sight is more pleasing, Daine thought with a grin. Jonathan saw it and returned it with a smile of his own. Now that he had shaved off his beard, he looked years younger and so much more attractive. Numair could beat him any day. Daine discarded the strange thoughts and turned her attention to her task.
“Good morning, Daine. Sit, please.” Jon gestured; a chair drew itself from the table. Daine sat in it, astounded.
“Where’d you learn that? You aren’t gifted with ESP!”
Jonathan smiled crookedly. “Numair gave me the spell. After he experimented and made sure he got the good part of the deal.”
“Of course,” snorted Daine defensively. Jon held up a hand.
“Anyway, that’s not why you’re here. You’re here-“
“Because I think that what you’re planning is preposterous!” Daine snapped. “I think your idea of celebrating the longest night of the year is great! Wonderful! Time to get creative, sure! But not at the cost of skinning thousands of animals to make loin clothes and breast bands!”
The King chortled. “I guess the theme for Midwinter is kind of extreme,” he admitted.
Daine grunted. “Oh yes. You want all of the nobles dressed as cavemen. How could I forget?” She glared at him. “And my arguments aren’t just against the skinning of animals to make scanty garments; think about the sex appeal! Rape, sex, etc… will be the main things on the men’s minds!”
Jonathan sat still, deep in thought. Daine fidgeted, embarrassed about the words she had chosen. Finally, the King winked.
“Very well. I see your point. I’ll change the theme for the Midwinter’s Banquet.”
Daine sighed. “Thank you.”
“I-“ began Jon but Daine cut in.
“No, think about the animals you’ve just saved.”
“I-“
“I thank you on their behalf.”
“I-“
“No-“
“Daine, please stop interrupting me,” Jonathan said loudly. Daine blushed and mumbled an apology. He waved it aside, saying, “Pick a new theme.”
Daine’s eyes widened. Quickly getting over her shock, she worked her mind furiously. “Erm…ahhh…lemme think…the Divine Realms?”
“What?” Jonathan asked, eyes fixed on her intensely.
“Everyone comes dressed as a god – or goddess. There thousands of them, from religions not our own. I personally think it’ll be fun!”
Jonathan thought about it and then nodded. “Nice choice.” Daine shrugged – but gasped with horror when he added, “I command you to be the Wave Walker.”
She stared at her king, mouth working soundlessly. He laughed softly. “You choose a theme and I choose your goddess. It’s only fair.”
Daine nodded slowly. “Something soft and squishy is going to be in your bed very soon.”
“Alanna used to say that to me.”
“Ahhh…the woman is wise.” Daine stood and bowed, then walked to the door. She opened it. “Ta-ta for now!” She skipped out, leaving Jonathan staring at the door. He shook his head.
“Yep. Numair’s definitely spending the dark hours with her.”
>>>>>@~@<<<<<
Daine returned to her room, only to find that Numair was still sleeping. Growling under her breath, she ripped up her note and pulled Numair into a sitting position. He still slept.
“Gods forgive me,” she muttered. Then, she violently pressed her mouth to his and kissed him savagely.
Numair’s mouth responded before his eyes did. When Daine pulled away and found the man’s eyes still closed, she hissed something into his ears – he jerked awake, grabbed and shook her.
“You’re not…tell me it-“ he whispered.
“Good…it worked.”
Numair looked confused.
“I only said it to wake you up, ‘cause my kiss didn’t work.”
Numair sighed and rubbed his face. “Good, because I’ve seen how that Perin-what’s-his-name looks at you.”
Daine smiled, gave him a softer kiss, and pushed him out of bed. Numair groaned.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”
“I’m going to the seamstress,” Daine announced.
“Why? All you need for Midwinter’s two scant bits of fur – awfully convenient for ripping off, I must say.”
Daine glared at her teacher. “Unfortunately for you men-folk, I’ve done away with the theme and given the King a new one. I’m going as the Wave Walker; you…you’re going as Gainel. Or would you prefer Da?”
Numair finally awoke. “So the theme is now gods and goddesses? Good. Even better.”
“I’m going.” Daine walked to the door.
“The Wave Walker is renown for her scanty clothes,” Numair continued, ignoring his fiancé.
“I’m opening the door.” Daine did the action.
“But, when the Wave Walker does bother to dress up, the clothes are awfully tight-“
“GOODBYE!” Daine stormed out of the room; the door slammed.
“Sometimes, she wears nothing at all,” Numair mused thoughtfully. “Whatever.”
>>>>>@~@<<<<<
Serena grinned at herself. It worked! She had successfully sent a whore in to distract her husband – which she did. The woman had also followed Serena’s direct instructions correctly. She had stabbed him to death and thrown him into the river.
And now Serena was in Corus. In her quest for Arram.
Her antagonist, Varice Kingsford, had told her that Arram was presently living in Corus, as a mage to King Jonathan. So, she packed her bags and went.
She was standing in a room in an inn, regarding her reflection in a full-length mirror. She was wearing the tough, leathery clothing of the K’miri Horselord – Chavi West-wind.
A maid had told her that the Midwinter’s banquet had a theme; gods and goddesses.
Serena had rushed to a tailor’s and got one of the last costumes available. And, because she had a rank that gave her the freedom to go to the banquet, she departed to the palace.
A hostler met her there and escorted her to the banquet hall. He sat her between a giant of a man and a stocky brunette. Serena avoided their conversation and concentrated on the food.
She had time. She could afford to wait…
>>>>>@~@<<<<<
Daine leaned over her plate, narrowly avoiding getting her curls into the soup. Alanna copied her, eyes squinting as she looked for a person that she didn’t know. Finally, she sighed and pulled Daine up.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded her young friend.
Daine looked confused. “Wrong? Why wrong?”
“Well,” Alanna fixed her with a stare, “you have an annoyed look plastered on your face, as if the bug you hated most had just landed on your cake.”
Daine shook her head. “I’m just looking at that woman over there.” She gestured to the dark woman sitting between Raoul and Buri. “She’s dressed like a Horselord…but she doesn’t look K’miri.”
Alanna found the woman and frowned. “Does she have to? After all, I don’t look like your mother.”
That earned a slight grin from Daine. “I’m honored that you chose the Green Lady as your goddess.”
Alanna shrugged. “The Mother was taken by Thayet, and I know how you feel about your ma.” Alanna took a closer look at the woman. “She doesn’t look familiar…maybe she’s visiting nobility.”
“Does it matter?” Daine asked. “Look at Numair!”
Alanna did, and found herself grinning. “Looks like he disobeyed your orders on dressing like the Dream King!”
Daine shook her head, a blush creeping on her cheeks. “Of course, the god he chose had to be The Lover!”
Alanna snorted. Daine joined in, laughing softly.
Numair, having the acute senses a mage possessed, looked up from across the room and blushed a deep red. He was dressed in tight black breeches, knee length boots, and a loose white linen shirt that opened down his chest. His hair was loose, framing a tawny face.
Daine returned to her eating. She had made a decision and forced herself to eat meat…but only for this particular banquet. There were hardly any plants served during winter, so if Daine didn’t want to starve – which she did not – she had to eat meat. Nevertheless, she had apologized to the meat’s surviving relatives (*A/N err…is that the right way of saying it? Never mind…*)
After dessert was dancing. Daine slunk off to a corner, feeling uncomfortable in her almost-not-there-but-there-but-so-light-you-can’t-feel-it-clothing. She wasn’t a very good dancer, excelling only in the dances done individually, and always felt odd in a large room full of twirling people.
Numair approached her, carrying two glasses of wine. He grinned down at her, eyes sparkling.
“Well, well, well.”
Daine glared at her lover. “What do you want, Numair? I’m already angry with you…don’t make it worse!”
The mage feigned innocence. “What did I do?”
“Let’s see…you disobeyed my orders!”
“And they were?” He cupped a hand behind an ear. Daine rolled her eyes.
“You told you to come as Gainel! But nooooo, you had to come as the Lover, didn’t you?”
Numair swallowed his wine and handed Daine hers. While she sipped it carefully, he replied,
“I though it would be best if I came as someone I know knows how to do stuff that I’m especially good at.”
Daine blushed. “Are you calling yourself an expert?”
Numair didn’t answer with words. He swooped down and pressed her to the wall, kissing her passionately. Daine was careful to hold her glass of wine above her head. Finally, Numair pulled away.
“I guess you are,” Daine answered herself, breathing hard. Numair chuckled.
“Ooo, I can’t wait until Jonathan dismisses us! That reminds me…I have to make sure the embers aren’t too hot,” he muttered.
He left, Daine staring at him incredulously.
(*A/N now, do the couples jump over the embers at Midwinter, Midsummer, or in Beltane? Oh well, doesn’t matter. I’ll just say it’s Midwinter.*)
>>>>>@~@<<<<<
Serena twirled with her dance partners, ignoring the loving glances they sent her.
In the name of the Goddess, they act as if they’ve never seen a beauty like me before, she though angrily. The vain part of her mind answered, well, that’s because they haven’t!
The music changed into a lively foxtrot (*A/N okay, okay, I know, I know! They don’t have foxtrots in Tortall…but who gives? I had to think of something.*) and Serena found herself being passed around the room. She ignored her partners, concentrating only in finding Arram.
Suddenly, the music ended. Serena’s partner stopped and accidentally tripped, sending Serena stumbling to the refreshments table. She collided with a tall, slightly muscular man.
“Oh, are you alright…” the man turned, ready to help her catch her balance. Serena looked at him; his brown eyes widened in…horror?
“YOU!?!?!”
>>>>>@~@<<<<<
Serena smirked. “Of course it’s me. Who did you expect?”
Arram stared at his ex-lover, his mouth forming words silently. Finally, he managed to say, “You’re married.”
Rolling her eyes, Serena replied in a sweet voice. “The bastard”- Arram winced -“is dead. Died of some strange disease. Left me heartbroken, of course. I’ve been mourning for two years. Then I remembered you…a…er…a friend of yours told me where you were.”
Arram was a deathly white. Serena thought he couldn’t go any whiter, but he paled considerably when she added, “I’ve come to finish what we’d begun.”
“Wh-what did – we begin?” Arram squeaked. Serena stood closer to him, her eyes pasted on his.
“You know,” she murmured, stroking his chin. Arram drew away, some strange emotion in his dark eyes. He kept on flicking them towards the crowd of people, as if he was looking for someone.
“Arram, come to my bed,” Serena whispered. “I…miss you –“
Arram stumbled back. “Serena –“ he said in a firm voice. “Serena, things have changed. I – I –“
“You what?”
Arram gulped. “I’m engaged.” His eyes narrowed angrily when Serena started laughing.
“You’re engaged? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard come from your mouth!” Serena whooped. “Arram Draper, the woman’s man! The man who can’t keep a straight relationship for more than two months! Until I came along!” She laughed. “You, you’re engaged? For how long? You’ll break it off in a week or so-“ (*A/N now does woman’s man mean the dude’s gay? In my version, it DOES NOT!!! *)
“Shut up, Serena.”
“How dare you tell me to shut up!” Serena shrieked. (*A/N this woman has a temper, eh?*)
Looking around desperately, Arram pulled Serena into the mob of dancers.
“You will return to your home in the Copper Isles-“
“I shall do no such thing!” Serena snapped.
“Where you shall forget-“
Serena growled, “I forget nothing!”
“You shall forget everything about me, understand!” Arram raised his voice; dancers shot the pair worried glances.
“Never!” shouted the woman, struggling out of Arram’s clutch. “No one tells me what to do! Arram Draper, you-“
“Shut the hell up!” Arram yelled. The people all around them stopped dancing to observe the struggling couple. They stepped aside when a handsome man with piercing blue eyes walked to them, dressed in swirling black robes.
“What is going on?” he asked in a firm voice. Serena snarled.
“None of your business! Now leave us before I turn you into the pig you really are.”
Everyone gasped; the man frowned; Arram shook Serena.
“Do you know who I am?” the blue-eyed man asked quietly.
“An ass-whole who pokes his overlarge nose into other people’s business,” Serena said bluntly.
More gasps. The man drew himself up.
“I am King Jonathan, and you, madam, are creating a stir.”
Serena blanched, but managed to fire, “Then Arram and I leave!” She grabbed Arram and dragged him out of the room.
There was a silence. Then Jonathan threw up his hands and called in a falsely cheerful voice, “Let’s party!”
Nobody noticed a slim figure leave – except Alanna.
>>>>>@~@<<<<<