11. Chapter Eleven Bahira
Chapter Eleven: Bahira
M y moans saturate the air in Max’s bedroom as I claim my prize for winning our sparring match. After legitimately trying for all of five minutes, Max let me best him with a move he could have easily blocked. With the metal tip of my spear pointed at his neck, he smiled down at me as if he had just become the champion of a kingdom-wide tournament.
Discreetly—at my request—he led me back to his place through the cover of the thick trees surrounding the training grounds. We showered together, but also at my request, we kept our hands to ourselves. I was in no rush to have this moment over before it started. I needed this distraction. That didn’t stop either of us from eyeing the other intensively before we finally made it to the bedroom.
Thankfully, Max has proven that he is very skilled with his tongue. His wide jaw creates the most perfect place for me to sit, my knees on either side of his head. He holds my hips, those large hands fanning across them more gently than I wish they would. The thought causes a shiver to roll down my spine as he continues encouraging me to move faster on top of his mouth. My toes curl from the tingling sensation building at my center. His eyes sear into me as I slowly slide my hands up my stomach in tantalizing motions until I reach my breasts. My pace picks up, Max more than willing to help my hips move, as his tongue continues its assault on my clit. I knead my breasts and pinch and pull on my nipples, giving myself that small bite of pain I crave. With another roll of my hips, my thighs clench together and a wickedly loud moan leaves my lips as I climax. Max holds me in place, his tongue diving into me as he consumes my release like it’s a favorite meal he’s been denied for too long.
“I need more,” I say breathlessly, every nerve ending still buzzing. Max wastes no time picking me up from his face as he sits up, no easy feat considering I am not a small woman. I move to my hands and knees, anticipation coiling within as Max positions himself behind me. Looking at him over my shoulder, I shudder as his eyes devour the part of me he wants to claim. It’s like being hunted by a dangerous predator, and at this moment, I am more than willing to be prey.
Lining himself up, he begins to push into me at an agonizingly slow pace, groaning when he can feel how ready for him I am. I force my hips back hard until he is buried to the hilt and I’m stretched around him indecently. A slight prickle of pain quickly gives way to pleasure as we both pause, our breathing ragged.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.
My hips start moving in small circles in response, and I smirk when he lets out another string of curses. Tension starts building again as he thrusts into me. I throw my head back, my long curly hair tickling me as it fans across my skin. The memory of my night with Gosston pierces my lust-addled brain, and for a moment, I lose my focus and fall out of rhythm. Max, however, is intent on making sure I stay thoroughly distracted and pulls my hips back in time with his next thrust.
“Harder,” I command. His pace slows down as he thrusts deeper into me, his grunts meeting my moans like an obscene, forbidden song. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulls me up so that my back meets his chest. Gently moving my hair over my shoulder, he then trails a hand over my breast and down my stomach until he reaches between my legs, circling my clit with precision. My back arches as I gasp for air, tilting my hips to get him even deeper.
“ Fuck . Yes, Bahira.” His thrusts start to speed up again, his breathing as staccato as mine.
“Work me harder if you want me to come with you,” I urge, my nails digging into his forearm. Max rises to the challenge, hitting me deeper while also moving those deft fingers faster. His other hand moves back and forth between my breasts, mimicking what he saw me do to them earlier. Finally, I’m near the edge again, my orgasm right on the cusp. My inner muscles clench together, and after a few more punishing thrusts, I’m screaming as I fall over that ledge, Max following shortly after with a noise that can only be described as a roar. We’re a heaving, sweaty mess on our knees, Max’s arms still wrapped around my torso holding me to him. He stills suddenly, the tension in his corded arms making the veins there more pronounced.
“Please tell me you’re taking something to prevent pregnancy.” The fear in his voice makes me laugh as he slowly begins to pull out behind me.
“Yes, I’m taking the preventative tonic,” I confirm, groaning again when he fully slips out.
“Thank the stars above. I’ll get a towel.” He moves from the bed and into the bathroom as I search the floor for my undergarments. “I didn’t think it would be this easy, you know,” he says, walking back into the room and handing me a wet towel to clean myself up with as he begins to pull his trousers on.
“You didn’t think what would be easy?” I question, my back to him as I grab my own tunic and trousers off the floor, grimacing when I remember how dirty they are from training this morning.
“Bedding you,” he responds with an air of nonchalance that makes me grip my clothing tighter.
“And why would you assume it would be easy?” I challenge, pulling the tunic over my head and promptly cursing when it gets snagged on my hair.
“Gosston said all I had to do was invite you to spar, and it would end in fucking.” I turn to look at him when I finally get my wretched top on. Max takes in the hard look on my face and cringes before shrugging and adding, “He wasn’t wrong.”
I roll my eyes and scoff. “Did Gosston also tell you that he lasted all of five thrusts before he came?” I ask, stepping into my pants. Max barks out a laugh, shaking his head.
“No, he conveniently left that out. He did say that you cried after, telling him you wished you had magic.”
My hands tying the laces of my trousers falter as anger floods my veins and a vow begins to chant in my mind: I’m going to murder Gosston.
“What else has he been running his mouth about?” I grit out, turning to face Max as my hands go to my hips. He suddenly gets quiet, pinching his lips together as he avoids looking at me. My hands fly up in exasperation. “Really? Now you’re not going to talk?” I don’t know why I’m surprised to hear that Gosston has already spread word of our night together. Though together is hardly the right word considering it was mostly just him drunkenly coming at record speed. Still, thick regret and something that feels an awful lot like shame begins to settle heavily on me.
“I don’t want to cause problems,” he deflects, his voice becoming higher, as if he’s scared of my reaction.
If I weren’t already heated with anger, I might have laughed. “It’s too late for that,” I mumble, lacing up my sandals and heading towards the hallway outside of the room.
“Does this mean I’ve lost my chance for a repeat sparring session?” he yells after me.
“You never had one.”
Without another word, I step out and start my walk home through the forest. The earthy scent of the trees and foliage calms some of the rage in my veins though images of stabbing Gosston with my spear dance in my mind the entire walk home.
After spending my shower wondering how much trouble I would get in if I maimed Gosston, I dress and walk to the library. The late afternoon sun shines through gaps in the canopy above, dotting the gray stone pathway with golden light. While the palace itself is mostly secluded for security, the surrounding area does boast several residential homes. Smoke trails out of a few chimneys as I follow the path lined by the thick foliage. The remnants of a cool spring breeze blow my hair faintly as I walk and nod to mages who pass me. While my distraction with Max had been successful—prior to the Gosston comments—all my previous worries bubble right back up to the surface. I find myself eager to find refuge within the pages of a book and, hopefully, some ideas on what to experiment on next.
My steps quicken when the rectangular two story white building comes into view. While it does have draping vines at its entrance and beautifully carved wood-lined windows, the structure stands out like a white cloud among a green sky. It is made of white dragon stone, like most of the buildings and homes, which is sourced from the Fae Kingdom through trade deals. Their dragon stone is easily carved but extremely durable. In exchange for the building material, we provide the fae with an abundance of fruits and vegetables not easily grown in their own mountainous terrain.
The library is set back a few feet from the main road, a small gray stone pathway lined with varying flowers and bushes guides the way to a large set of arched double doors. A giant yellow galanthus flower permanently blooms at the pinnacle of the arch, the long skinny petals delicately flared open. The wooden door creaks as I pull on it, the familiar aged smell of old paper and leather hitting my nose immediately upon entering. I exhale as I walk in, feeling more calm now than I had since leaving Max’s. Memories of all the time I spent here over the years play in my mind. At first, it was to escape all the whispers about how I had no magic, but eventually, I came to crave the exploration and discovery of the knowledge that lines the shelves in this place. The silence found here was an added bonus.
I walk past the front desk where Elisha, an older mage who runs this place, sits. She smiles warmly when she sees me, the gray-blonde hair pinned to the top of her head bobbing as she dips her chin in hello. The first floor has the same white stone as the outside. It lines the walls and ground, though the floor is covered by rugs of dark red and blue that are spread out to muffle the sound of shoes clicking on the hard surface. Dark wooden tables and chairs are placed throughout, and lining the walls in all directions are shelves upon shelves of books. A wooden staircase in the back leads up to the second floor, the middle of which is open to the main level below. A railed walkway wraps all the way around and houses even more books on ancient wood shelves. Windows on both the first and second floors let in whatever light sneaks past the treetops. Spelled flames in glass bowls help make up the difference so that the entire library is cast in a decadent glow. Besides the ruffling sound of pages being turned and a few muffled footsteps, it is expectedly and pleasantly silent. I feel like I can finally take a deep breath here.
After gathering several books from the Magic section, a few that are familiar and some I haven’t read yet, I take a seat at a table closest to the bookcases. Sliding a tome to me, the leather crackles as I open it and begin to read the yellowed pages. Anyone in the realm is welcome to check books out, but they are spelled to make sure that they aren’t destroyed—accidentally or otherwise.
I’m not sure how much time passes when a familiar female voice says my name.
“Bahira with her nose in a book—that’s a sight that will never get old.” My mother heads towards me, her gait more like a waltz with the natural grace of her movements. She stops beside me, her hands immediately moving to fuss with my hair. While Nox takes after our father with his wavier black hair, angular jaw, and lightly tan skin, I mirror our mother. Like her, I have wild and unruly dark brown curls; my skin is more tan than Nox’s and my jaw softer. The only trait that our entire family shares is the dark gray of our eyes, signifying that our line has only ever been that of mage blood.
When the realms were easily traversed before the war, it was rare—though not uncommon—to marry someone from a different realm. After the Spell was put into place, however, that changed. I had heard rumors that beings who were of mixed blood may have been sent to a different kingdom than where they were living when the Spell was cast. It all depended on what magic they had, or I suppose, didn’t have.
My mother gently tugs on my hair, drawing my attention back to her. “Where did you go, my rose?”
I smile at her term of endearment. It is both her favorite flower and my middle name. “Just contemplating the usual,” I answer in a hushed voice, gesturing to the books in front of me.
She smiles, but it doesn’t hide the concern lining her features. I start moving to clean up the books, hoping to avoid a conversation I’d rather not have at the moment. When the books are put back in their place—no helpful information gained on this trip—I walk with my mother outside, waving a small goodbye to Elisha. I’m shocked to realize the sun has already set, darkness concealing the forest. Spelled flames illuminate the path as my mother and I start our walk back to the palace. My hands rub the sides of my arms as the still-cool spring night air blankets us.
“You know that you are not any less mage because you do not have magic,” my mother affirms in the silence, her hand reaching out to squeeze my arm gently. “Your soul, your very essence— you —are what our people are made of. Magic is secondary to the person who wields it.” Her voice is dulcet, her words holding her conviction.
A knot of emotion tightens in my throat before I clear it, dropping my hands to my sides as I sigh. “I know I have magic, Mother,” I say, looking up at what I can see of the night sky. “There is no reason I shouldn’t. Not only do I have pure mage blood in my veins, but I also have two of the most powerful magic wielders as my parents. It does not make sense that I was randomly selected to be punished by not having a gift when Nox was blessed with the most magic we’ve seen in well over a century.” The cadence of my voice changes as my frustration bleeds through.
“It is not a punishment,” she counters, tugging on my arm to stop our walk as she turns towards me. Her gray eyes are filled with the kind of unconditional acceptance and love I fear will only ever come from a parent. “You must believe that the gods did not single you out—”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense!” I yell, cutting her off and stepping out of her hold. My mothers eyes widen at my outburst, her mouth dropping open slightly. She tries to step closer, but my hands go up defensively. I wish she understood—I wish anyone else understood why what I’m doing is so important to me. I fight back the tears welling in my eyes as I force a deep breath into my tightened chest. “Imagine how incomplete I feel in my own family,” I whisper, laying my insecurities bare at her feet. “I just—” I hesitate, my gaze lifting from hers and back to the night sky. “I just want to be whole.”