Wizardly Duty #2
I let the chain drop against their chest before I kiss them hard. Carefully, I lift them from the wooden horse, seeing how red and swollen the lips of their cunt have gotten. They moan in pure relief as I carry them over to the bed before I set them down.
I’m gentle as I untie them, and when I remove the clamps from their nipples, I soothe the angry skin with my mouth.
Cancassi’s long fingers tangle in my hair, breathy little sounds of need escaping them as they squirm in my grip.
I lay them back on the bed, kissing down their chest, tasting the salt of sweat on their skin.
I draw back only for a moment to shed the rest of my clothes before I lean down and capture their lips softly. Cancassi returns the kiss, one leg hooking around my waist in a wordless demand. I obey as I rest against them, my cock sliding against their wet and ready slit.
Their moan is pure bliss as I sink into them, thrusting slow and deep. After all the fire and anger, all I want is to savor them, to soak in every breathy gasp, every mewl of pleasure. I want to remember the feel of their heat wrapped around me, the way their long fingers tangle in my hair.
The thought that this may be the last time between us is like a knife through my ribs.
I force it aside, stealing their moan away with another kiss.
My hand reaches down to grab their hard length, and I stroke in time with every slow thrust, thumb brushing over their leaking tip.
They jerk underneath me, lithe body quivering as another orgasm washes through them.
Their walls tighten around me, but I manage to hold off my end by a hair.
“I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” I whisper.
Cancassi clings to me like they don’t want to let go. “You’ll come back. I know you’ll come back.”
I wish I could believe them. Instead, I bury my face against their neck before nipping gently. I leave little marks behind as I speed my pace up, wanting to give them a kinder thing than the welts I left to remember me by.
Their moan of appreciation sounds right next to my ear, and it’s what I need to tip me over the edge. I cum with a groan, my hand speeding over their length.
It doesn’t take long for Cancassi to follow me one last time. They arch under me with a choked sound of pleasure, their arms wrapped tight around my back.
Even once the pleasure abates, neither of us move. Like we’re trying to stretch the moment out, savor it. Cancassi’s fingers stroke through my hair, making me sigh with pleasure.
“I meant what I said, Olbric,” they say quietly. “You’ll come back.”
I swallow and roll to lay beside them, arms sliding around their waist to pull them against my chest. In the wake of casting, the tightness in my chest has come loose. I’m profoundly tired, but it’s a calmer sort of exhaustion than it was before. A resignation, almost.
But that’s too soft of a word. I’m not the same person I was when I came to the Crux. Not the same scared boy running away from home.
I draw in a steadying breath, because Cancassi’s right. I mean every word when I say, “It would take an act of God to keep me from coming back to you.”
Cancassi lets out a short laugh as they snuggle close, burying their face against my chest. Their shoulders tremble, and I can tell they’re crying even as they try to hide it. I hold them close, stroking their soft skin even as tears prick at my own eyes.
I’ll be back, but God, I’m going to miss them fiercely in the meantime.
“Now that was a proper apology,” they say thickly, and I let out an amused huff.
“Are you alright?”
They lift their head, wiping their tears away. “I’m exhausted.” They tilt their face towards me as they settle their cheek back against my chest. “Are you?”
I let out a long breath as I press a kiss to their head. “I’ll be alright.”
Somehow, impossibly, I sleep. Cancassi stays with me through the night before they wake me early the next morning. Before first bell, they help me get ready.
I don the magiline citran Varice made for me.
It’s cut in the style worn by men in Cairish, but I wear the sash like the women do, tying it low around my hips.
I leave my freshly washed hair down, though Cancassi brushes it to a shine before tying a few small braids into it, each one a different weave.
“For luck,” they say as they clamp the last one shut with a silver bead, “for safe travels, and an easy trip home.”
I look at their crown of braids with new appreciation. “What do all of yours mean?”
Cancassi smiles at me, a pleased flush coloring their face. “I’ll tell you once you’re back home.”
I line my eyes with kohl before allowing Cancassi to dust a bit of silver powder onto the lids. I feel beautiful and powerful, wearing the clothes and makeup like a shield.
First bell rings out, and my stomach plummets. Cancassi presses their lips to my hair before muttering, “Hold your head high, a’lynn. You can do this.”
I sigh as I straighten up, casting one glance at my reflection in the mirror. “I’m ready.”
ANY TIME THE KING LEAVES the palace, it seems like people will do anything to catch a glimpse.
The gate to the courtyard is closed, but through the metal bars, I can see that a crowd of people has followed the royal procession all the way here.
Not that I can really blame them. The gathered delegation in the Crux’s courtyard is a sight to behold, and even my eyes are drawn to the dashing figure of King Thermilious.
Among his advisers and guards, he’s the youngest of the group, but he strikes a regal figure.
Dressed in all of his royal finery, he’ll be hotter than two hells once we make the jump to Marikadar.
Captain Thora stands just beside him, her arms crossed over her breastplate, eyes steely as she surveys the courtyard, ever alert.
Yet among the King’s attendants is the last person I want to see.
Ambassador Feisal’s eyes lock with mine across the courtyard.
He’s dressed in a tan citran and gray fahrits of fine quality, his ear-length wavy hair carefully coiffed.
He looks handsome, but the slow smirk that spreads across his face ruins any redeeming qualities.
I want to slap that smug look right off of him, but as satisfying as it would be, it won’t do me any good.
He’s won. He’s getting me home. And it only took him and my father hanging the balance of peace across the continent on me to do it.
“Hey.”
I’m pulled out of my thoughts and turn to see Galiva. Her footsteps are quiet as she approaches me.
“Hey,” I say through a sigh.
She comes to stand beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. We’re quiet for a moment. I’m not ready to head out into the courtyard, and fortunately, it doesn’t seem like she’s here to rush me.
“I’m really proud of you, you know.”
I blink as I look down at her. Of all the things I expected her to say, that was not it. “What? Why?”
“Remember when we first started dabbling with abjuration?” she asks.
I can’t help a small laugh. “You were awful at it.”
“I wasn’t awful! You were just a fucking escape artist.” She smiles as she leans against my shoulder, her arm twining around mine.
“I was convinced that nothing could keep you contained if you didn’t want to be.
I still think that.” She glances up at me as she says, “You could have run. We both know the walls of the Crux aren’t enough to hold a force like you. But you didn’t.”
I let out a long breath. “I-I don’t want to do this, Gal.”
“I know.”
“But I want a war less,” I mutter.
Her fingers thread through mine. “I know. Me too.” She lifts my hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles. “You had to make a really difficult decision. I’m proud that you made this one.”
I fight back tears as I pull her into a fierce hug. “I’m going to miss you. Who’s going to beat the stress out of me in Marikadar?”
Galiva snorts as she returns the embrace. “I’m sure Arlon or Alix will both be happy to.” She pulls back, cupping my cheek. “Keep an eye on Arlon for me?”
I press a kiss to her forehead, shoving my own anger with Arlon aside. For her, I can at least do that. “I will.”
She loosens her grip as she says, “I’ll see you soon.”
“I will accept literally no other outcome.”
She gives my hand one last squeeze before she turns to head back into the Crux. I draw in a steadying breath before I go to join the rest of the delegation.
“Good morning, Olbric,” Arlon says as I approach. He’s dressed in his deep purple robes, the full weight of his spells hanging around his neck. My anger bubbles up again, but I can still admit that the full splendor of the Grandmaster of the Crux is a good look on him.
“Is it, though? A good morning?”
Arlon continues like he didn’t hear me. He pulls a spell from his ample necklace and says, “You will be teleporting the King’s advisers as well as Allisande.
She’s even angrier about going on this trip than you are, so please keep her close.
I will be teleporting the King, his attendants, and his guard.
Alix will be handling the remaining luggage along with Ambassador Feisal. ”
I can’t help but snort a laugh at the thought of Feisal being just another piece of spare luggage to drag along.
I’m relieved that Alix is joining us for this trip, but Allisande’s presence surprises me.
Ever since she killed Diran Barclay at the Eastern Tower, she’s been confined to the Crux.
I’ve barely seen her or Margeurite since.
“As the only person to know Marikadar personally, you will be responsible for guiding us to the correct location,” Arlon says. “Our aim is the main courtyard of the palace. I’ve already gotten a sending ahead to the Strae ambassador in Marikadar to notify the Shykhdar of our arrival.”
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, resigned. I go to take the spell, but Arlon pulls it back.
“It took some convincing to assure Thora you could be trusted to do this,” he says quietly. “Please don’t make me a liar.”