Follows from "Sigrid's Gambit"
"...[o]f the Deities most dear to the Elven blademistress is Sehanine Moonbow, the Mother Goddess, the Moon Huntress - the Silver Queen whose brilliance banishes the Shadow...(and) most beloved of Sehanine was Tyrithina who led the final battle against the wicked Green Wyrm whose name amongst mortals was Adremonnailech, the Boundless Ruin. At the summit of the Shattered Tower, she struck the mortal blow with Sehanine's own Moonblade, whereupon her Goddess rejoiced and rewarded Tyrithina with a Queendom and nine nights of passion in her embrace...yet, even if valiant Tyrithina's progeny have scattered throughout the Crystal Sphere, each in turn founding the cities of the Grey Elves - so named in honour of the silver light of their Goddess - none has yet been found worthy of her legacy or of her Moonblade..."
- Excerpt from the Third Scroll of the Chronicles of Imej
Reunion
Early evening spread its warm orange and suffused red hues onto the icy frost that blanketed Yssinel's garden. A single levitating sphere of red light provided warmth and a most agreeable illumination, for it mirrored the phases of the sun and shone a bright yellow at midday and grew progressively dimmer as the day came to a close. After whiling away effortless hours in Yssinel's amiable company, Aerylle began to feel as though she had never left. A simple yet magnificent lunch of assorted pine-nut pastries had given way to a long and reassuringly lighthearted conversation about the passage of time and their respective emotional lives. Yssinel had listened, curled up in her couch, with rapt attention as Aerylle described a city so vast that its horizon stretched beyond view and curved upwards, for the plane on which it stood was shaped like a great cosmic wheel. Aerylle, for her part, was simply relieved to speak Elven again and find before her the friend who had been so achingly close yet so distant during those months when all they had was long, effusive letters to speak to one another. As the subtleties of Grey Elven courtship and the desires of the heart dictated, what lay beneath those letters and what hid in the affectionate glances they exchanged was a sentiment that no words, save poetry, could convey. Aerylle knew the moment she had taken her place on the couch in front of Yssinel that the Enchantress' feelings for her had only grown more intense with time and distance.
"I must thank you," Aerylle began, taking a sip of warm elderberry tea from an ineffably delicate azure ceramic cup. "You have made me feel at home after all this time. I always missed the sound of your voice, the grace of your smile, yet now that I have these pleasures again, I fear I may never choose to leave Imej again." Aerylle felt a pang of guilt for speaking with such naked passion about Yssinel. If she had been in Min's place, she would have been jealous. That said, the Elven librarian had never seen Min behave possessively. The tiefling was fiercely protective, to be sure, but in no way overbearing. If only, Aerylle thought ruefully, her fellow Elves could be convinced of her newfound bonded lover's virtues.
"It has been my pleasure." Yssinel replied. She stirred in her couch, each movement measured and infinitely delicate, and reached out to clasp Aerylle's hand. In that moment, Yssinel knew that her hopes had not been in vain. She felt Aerylle's pulse quicken ever so slightly under her fingers, just as the librarian's soft, pearly white skin grew almost imperceptibly warmer under her touch. "Your departure left a great emptiness in me. I had begun to fear that I would never see you again."
The garden was magnificent as ever, arranged so as to resemble a naturally fertile forest glade, even if the flowers and the wild-grown ornamental bushes were covered in a thin layer of frost. No water sang from the stone wall at the far end of the garden. The winter chill had frozen it over. Aerylle waited until she felt it was the right moment before finally speaking. "Tahllea's love has brought you much joy, I have asked for your forgiveness many times in my letters, but I thought I should say it in person once more: I am truly sorry I could never give you the same happiness."
Yssinel acknowledged Aerylle's apology with an understated nod and brought the librarian's slender hand to her lips. She could smell the rosy sweetness of Aerylle's perfume. Yssinel's heart began to beat a little faster. That smooth, sensual skin beneath her lips was like the finest silk. Aerylle had a poetess' hand. Yssinel could only dream of those long, elegant fingers tracing the sensitive outline of her pointed ear, or slipping under her dress to find the moist, yielding warmth of her sex. "I still need you, Aerylle. Sometimes, I feel like a fool for saying this, after so much time," the Enchantress said fervently, her gaze fixed passionately into the sapphire-blue pools of her friend's eyes, "but I have always needed you. Tahllea is magnificent and I could not wish for a better lover, but I could never recapture the way I felt when I posed naked for you to draw, or the way my soul burned when you left those long, beautifully flowery and wonderfully erotic love letters on my desk..."
"We were but girls..." Aerylle replied, desperately trying to suppress the light blush that had begun to spread so endearingly across her cheeks. "I was so...awkward..."
"No, you weren't." Yssinel interrupted indignantly, gracefully rising from her couch to kneel on the snowy ground by Aerylle's side. Her silver, star-patterned gown fluttered with each movement, for the fabric was paper-thin, but specially enchanted so that it shaped itself to Yssinel's whim, to be coy or provocative as the situation dictated. "The words your wrote lifted themselves from the page like hawks in flight to capture my heart. I spent whole evenings alone with your letters and read about you undressing and ravishing me a thousand times and each time was more real than the last."
"Yssinel!" Aerylle reprimanded, gently pulling the Enchantress up from the snow to sit beside her on the divan. "We promised we would never dwell on that youthful passion. You and I both know that's why we went to different Academies..."
"And there isn't a single day that I don't regret that decision." Yssinel interjected fiercely. She clasped Aerylle's waist. The cool, finely-wrought silver chains that held the two sky-blue gossamer strips of the librarian's dress together felt heavy in her hands.
"Hush!" the librarian replied firmly, taking Yssinel into her embrace. "We cannot continue to live in regret. Be happy with Tahllea, just as I have sworn to be happy with Min."
"I know." Yssinel whispered, gently nuzzling Aerylle's neck. The librarian's golden-blonde tresses were just as silky and fragrant as she remembered. "Forgive me. All this time apart and...the moment I saw you, my heart burned with need."
"If you like," Aerylle conceded, "we could spend a day together alone. Perhaps we could go up to the Tiikhan River's source to see the tree-frosts. Remember, we always used to go when we were children..."
"Of course," Yssinel replied, stealing a soft kiss on Aerylle's ear. "That place is sacred to us."
"But you must promise me that even if we decide to make love, you will not try to change the past and undo what both of us have built." Aerylle felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt at suggesting that she and Yssinel be intimate. She had chided Min many times for her casual dalliances and now, what she was proposing to spare Yssinel's feelings was beginning to sound decidedly hypocritical. But Aerylle was only flesh and blood - Yssinel's beauty and affection were as alluring as ever.
"If I falter in my promise, then you must stand firm." Yssinel smiled and pressed a loving kiss on Aerylle's soft, pink lips.
"I shall do my best." Aerylle chimed, pleased that Yssinel had overcome her initial surge of emotions. In truth, there was a part of Aerylle that believed the reason that she and Yssinel had never brought their timid courtship further was that she feared the Enchantress' complex, all-consuming passion. From the moment they had met, Aerylle noticed that Yssinel had the almost unnatural ability to make sure she obtained anything she wanted.
"Thank you," Yssinel purred, huddling closer to Aerylle, just to feel the librarian's slender, willowy frame pressed against her again. "You were always the sensible one."
"And you always used to get Tahllea into trouble." Aerylle shot back jokingly. It was useless to lie to herself: it felt wonderful to have Yssinel in her arms again. "Always playing with her pride to get her to act out your wicked little plans." Tahllea had briefly become infamous in Imej for sneaking into the School of Arcana's library and stealing a tome of dangerous incantations until it emerged that Yssinel had orchestrated the whole incident to get her hands on advanced spell lore well beyond the capabilities of an aspiring Enchantress.
"Well," Yssinel retorted, affecting irritation, "she was the only one I could ask. You were always too concerned with what your mother would do to you if she found out and Ennaeli had a rather irksomely over-active conscience."
"She still does." Aerylle noted. "The last I heard, she was still helping rebuild that Wood Elf village..." There was no need to go into the details. Green Dragon attacks were sudden and horrific. Accounts of the effects of the poisonous, acidic breath that the great wyrms issued forth before tearing through Elven villages and cities were seared into Aerylle's memory.
"I suppose that makes her the brave one." Yssinel said, settling on the couch so she could lean her head against Aerylle's breast. Her long gold and silver hair fell like a marvelous treasure trove over the cobalt-blue fabric of Aerylle's gown. "I pretend to agree with Tahllea when she says that Imej is dry and uninteresting, but at least we're all safe here."
"Beauty can be found in the most dangerous and chaotic of places." said Aerylle as she instinctively began to run her fingers through Yssinel's hair in long, winding motions. "The Hive, the place where Min grew up, is dark, mysterious and menacing, but it's full of life, of energy."
"She will make a fine bonded lover for you." Yssinel said knowingly, mentally preparing a suitably dramatic entrance for the surprise she had been planning for over a year. "But, if I may, there is one gift which I would give you. Take it to be a gesture of my devotion to you."
"The Blessed Sehanine favours me," Aerylle said reverently, planting an affectionate kiss on Yssinel's cheek. "You are, as always, more generous than I deserve."
"Then please, don't be startled." the Enchantress said. With a voiceless mental command, she bade the tiny silver bell at the vine-grown gate at the garden's entrance to ring. As if by magic, the gates slipped open and Mjrina stepped into the garden with fleet-footed grace.
Aerylle froze for instant, thinking the Wood Elf maiden's sudden appearance a mirage or an illusion. Perhaps a trick of the mind, still absorbed in those joyous moments so long ago when she and Mjrina had been one. But, sure enough, there was Mjrina, clad in the flimsy, verdant-green shift that complemented the gorgeous, sylvan colour of her hair and woodland tan skin. No, there was no doubt about it. None other than Mjrina now stood, every bit as astonished as Aerylle was, the very picture of simple perfection - beautiful and sensual as the ever.
"Why..." Aerylle began, pausing to clear the knot of emotion she felt building in her throat. "Why did you never tell me she was here?"
"I would have," Yssinel replied with a satisfied smile. "But I knew you would have returned before it was time. When you first wrote to me about Min, I knew you were destined for each other and I certainly had no intention of driving you apart as your mother had driven you and Mjrina apart."
Aerylle only heard half of Yssinel's explanation. As if in a trance, she rose to her feet and rushed blindly to throw her arms around Mjrina, drawing the Wood Elf maiden into a tight, angry embrace. Mjrina did not utter a single word. All her desperate prayers to the Forest Mother had been answered. Now, all she could do was sink into the reassuring warmth of Aerylle's breast and listen to her mistress' heartbeat and run her hands over familiar curves, like a child searching for her mother in the darkness.
There was nothing to be said and nothing that Aerylle could say. She was overjoyed and did not dare break the sanctity of that moment with words. So it was Mjrina who spoke first. "Mistress..." she whispered. Even though she was weeping, her voice was soft and measured. Being in Aerylle's embrace calmed her, so that the only emotion she felt was a profound sense of loving peace.
"My lovely Mjrina," Aerylle replied, drawing Mjrina closer so she could smell the pine-needle fragrance of the Wood Elf girl's hair. A perfume which she had long ago thought lost. "Why did you go?" Despite Aerylle's best efforts, the question was tinged with a note of resentment.
"Your mother told me that we would only bring each other suffering and that was why she wouldn't allow me to stay any longer...I was frightened...forgive me, Mistress, I should have waited. You would have defended me, I'm sure of it..." Mjrina took a deep breath and clutched Aerylle for dear life. There had been no arguing that fateful day Aerylle's mother told her to leave. Mjrina had known that even if she had protested or waited for Aerylle to return home, it would merely have prolonged the agony of their separation.
"All is forgiven, my treasure," Aerylle cooed, gently taking Mjrina's hands into her own. "But there is one thing you must tell me. My mother said she gave you a year's wages to..."
"I threw the coins into the river, Mistress," Mjrina said with a pained smile. Aerylle's face was blurred through her tears. "By the Forest Mother I swear, all of them. I shouldn't even have taken them in the first place, but I did not want to offend your mother."
Aerylle felt a spasm of guilt deep in her soul. She should not have asked. Mjrina was anything but materialistic. Yet there had always been a trace of unbearable doubt in her mind. Now, Aerylle resolved to trust Mjrina unconditionally for as long as she drew breath. "I...I am truly sorry I asked, my love. Never in my life could I have imagined my return to Imej being so wonderful."
"It's lovely to see you two so happy together." Yssinel enthused. In that moment she knew that she had earned Aerylle's undying gratitude. "Your devotion honours my humble garden."
"You have my eternal thanks, Yssinel." Aerylle said. She eased Mjrina onto the divan and took her place by the Wood Elf girl's side. "But fate certainly favoured you. How else did you come across Mjrina before she had a chance to leave Imej?"
"She was distraught, poor child." Yssinel explained, even as she envied Mjrina, who lay pressed against Aerylle's breast with sweetest smile imaginable on her lips. "I found her weeping under the great oak in the garden by the Blessed Hanali's temple. At first, I thought she had lost her way, but when I approached her, I heard her whisper your name. She had spent the whole night in the garden begging the Forest Mother for forgiveness, thinking she had betrayed you. What else could I do but take her in? As chance would have it, you had already left Imej and since Mjrina had nowhere to go and I needed a Handmaiden, I only thought it right for her to stay with me."
"Thank you..." Aerylle breathed, her voice choked with emotion. She rocked Mjrina gently in her arms, as if the Wood Elf maiden were a little sister. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of asking Mjrina to come back to serve her. That would definitely have taken care of Min's tendency to turn every room she lived in into the physical embodiment of chaos. But that was but a fleeting whim. She knew she had been immensely fortunate just to see Mjrina again and that the Wood Elf girl would have everything she ever wanted from Yssinel. There was no point in burdening Mjrina with the deeply unfair choice of whether to stay with Yssinel or, eventually, leave with Aerylle. "You have taken such good care of her, I would be honoured if she continued to be your Handmaiden. So, from now on, whenever I write to you, I shall always add a page or two for Mjrina."
"Certainly," Yssinel nodded. Everything was unfolding just as she had planned. "But now enough crying or I fear I'll start, too. We should all have dinner together when Min and Tahllea come back. Perhaps, Mjrina, it would be more appropriate if you sat with us, this time, rather than serving."
"If my Mistress so wishes..." Mjrina replied demurely, planting a soft kiss on the hollow of Aerylle's neck. Now that the emotion of meeting her first mistress again had passed, all she felt was an aching, raw desire to make love Aerylle once more. She hated herself for that surge of desire, but there had been nights when she had let Yssinel take her with her face pressed against the pillow, just so she could imagine it was Aerylle's hand filling her sex and caressing her bottom.
"It would be our pleasure." Yssinel smiled wryly. She knew that glint in Mjrina's leaf-green eyes all too well.
"Then," Mjrina said happily. "I would like nothing more." That, Mjrina thought with just a little wickedness, was the first time she had not been entirely honest with Yssinel.
***
Twin Stars
Citron-scented steam rose from a porcelain footbath which had been cast in the shape of a great Dragon Turtle. Tahllea sank deeper into the sinfully plush softness of the vast armchair where she reclined, her eyes covered by a chamomile-soaked cloth. Her short, azure dressing gown streamed down her lithely muscular frame, held in place by a flimsy satin sash tied around the waist. She did not often indulge in frivolous cosmetic treatments, but that evening Tahllea decided to make an exception. With the next dawn, the Celestial Sisters Festival would commence and with it, the fateful day of her duel with Sigrid would dawn. For that occasion, she decided that it would be inappropriate for her to look anything short of perfect.
"The water is ready, Lady Tahllea." Dzelha said with the fluid, singsong intonation of the Star Elves. She blended a little sandalwood essence into the steaming footbath and knelt diligently at Tahllea's feet.
"Then begin." Tahllea ordered. Dzelha nodded to her twin sister, Jylzaela, who was busying herself with cleansing oils she poured from tiny, but intricately shaped crystal bottles into the blending vial on the cosmetics table next to Tahllea's armchair. Sweet steam mingled with the aroma of slow-burning violet-oil candles which cast a deep, violet glow onto the frescoed walls of the bathing chamber. The marble floor was slick with condensed moisture, while a low-hanging lamp, shaped like a crescent moon, emitted a dull, silvery light.
"Before my sister begins, Lady Tahllea," Jylzaela said, setting aside her vial of expertly blended aromatic oils, "perhaps you could give us a general idea of how you would like us to work." The Star Elf maiden was deliberately cautious. They knew Tahllea quite well from the Bladesinger's numerous excursions to their native city of Eltheless in the far North where she had competed in ritual tourneys in honour of the Pole Star Goddess. Yet they also knew her infamous temper all too well, so they decided that it would be wise for them to make sure that Tahllea was treated in every way like the queen she thought herself to be.
"I wish to appear faultless." Tahllea mused. Jylzaela nodded and removed the chamomile-scented cloth from her eyes so that the Bladesinger could finally contemplate her surroundings. Thick steam obscured the walls of the chamber, giving Tahllea the impression of being in some great, underground cavern. She generally had no interest in the culture of pampered leisure that Yssinel so adored, but the opportunity of letting all her worries fade under the capable, sensual hands of Jylzaela and Dzelha was too rich an opportunity to pass up. The Star Elf twins were arrestingly pretty, possessed with the sharply beautiful features so typical of their kind, and blessed with smooth, glacier-white skin and silvery eyes, like polished platinum. As was the tradition of their icebound city, they wore their long, deep blue hair in numerous thin, intricately woven braids: each strand was unique, like a snowflake, and bore a profound, symbolic significance. It was said that Star Elf women could read one another's life-paths merely by glancing at their braids. What appealed to Tahllea most, though, was that the twins, though they were graced by a certain elfin elegance, had been tempered by the harsh elements of their northern home, so that they had a lean, athletic musculature - so different from a soft, Imej-born Grey Elven noblewoman.
"Faultless how, Lady Tahllea?" Dzelha inquired softly, carefully easing Tahllea's feet into the footbath. The steam had condensed on her white icicle-patterned silk shift, making it cling to her elegant, conical breasts. Her blueberry-violet nipples were stiff against the clinging fabric. Star Elven women made generous use of the dye of the Blue Sun Lichen. Tahllea found that it brought out the best in the twins' features, for they wore it on their lips and around their delicate, almond eyes - a gorgeous contrast with their skin that mirrored the sapphire-blue of their hair.
"As I am now, child, only more...polished." Tahllea said. The precise terminology of beauty treatments was alien to her.
"Your hair curled as usual, then, Lady Tahllea?" Jylzaela said softly. She dipped her hands into the bowl of blended cleansing oils and began to trace firm, circular patterns through Tahllea's short, raven-black hair.
"Naturally. I like the effect." came the curt reply. Ever since reading the Chronicles of Krynn in Yssinel's library - indeed, one of the few books Tahllea had ever bothered to read - she had become infatuated with the exploits of a tragic anti-heroine from that world and chosen to style herself on that mighty female warrior's image.
"Some nail paint for your feet?" Dzelha suggested without thinking. Kneeling in front of Tahllea gave her a tantalising view of the Bladesinger's long, firm thighs and, at their juncture, the slightest shadowy hint of a rich, pink treasure.
"Don't be ridiculous, girl." Tahllea growled. "Who do you take me for?"
Jylzaela shot her sister a reproving glance and Dzelha nodded apologetically, returning to her dutiful work applying a hard, but invigorating pressure on strategic points on the soles of Tahllea's feet. A luxuriously peaceful silence followed and Tahllea allowed herself to sink into the limb-loosening relaxation of strong, but expert massaging fingers. Far from the clanging blades of her duelling hall, she finally had time to contemplate the day's developments. Dinner with Min and Aerylle had turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant experience. To be sure, the Bladesinger had been delighted to see her friend again after so long, but Min had been by far the most pleasant surprise of the day. The tiefling was an endlessly fascinating and dangerously seductive woman, the sort of swashbuckling rogue Tahllea could imagine flipping a coin just to decide whether she felt like fucking or backstabbing to pass the night away. As far as Grey Elves were concerned Min may well have been a crude barbarian, but her nonchalant, sensual drawl and earthy language made for endlessly interesting conversation.
That was the official explanation. In truth, Tahllea was fascinated by Min's effortless sensuousness. The tiefling had seduced her with the sway of her hips, the lusty danger of her smile, the glint in her slanted, orange eyes. Tahllea's only regret was that Min had sauntered off before she had time to return the tiefling's favour. Now, the Bladesinger found herself imagining what was under Min's skintight, red leather breeches. She badly wanted to feel the lithe muscle of Min's thighs, the curve of her bottom, to explore the petal-like folds of the tiefling's sex. Would it be salty and musky, or tart and spicy? Either way, Tahllea could see herself spending whole nights with her face buried in Min's pussy.
"Lady Tahllea..." Dzelha whispered, gently lifting the Bladesinger's feet from the basin of warm water to dry them with a heated towel using swift, feather-light strokes.
"What is it, my rare beauty?" Tahllea replied airily. Thinking of Min had radically improved her mood and made her forget all about the upcoming duel with Sigrid.
Dzelha blushed a light violet. Flattery from Tahllea always quickened the blood in her veins. "I am now going to file your nails and condition your skin."
"An excellent idea..." Tahllea hissed. She absentmindedly reached out to the small, round table beside her armchair to retrieve the envelope she had pilfered from Yssinel's study. The moment Min had wandered off earlier that day, Tahllea had made a quick dash to her lover's desk where, just as she had suspected, the Enchantress kept the records of her research. It had taken Tahllea's sharp, perceptive gaze only a few moments to sort through the neat stacks of paper and find a clear, blue fabric envelope labelled only 'Sigrid'. Now, in the privacy of her own bathing chamber, she felt ready to explore the mysterious Aasimar's past.
"Would Lady Tahllea prefer rosehip, orange blossom, iris? Or perhaps something a little smokier..." Jylzaela asked as she pressed her index and middle fingers against Tahllea's temples in a slow, circular pattern while her thumbs trailed firmly over the Bladesinger's forehead.
"Nothing too flowery," Tahllea noted. She flipped the envelope open and extracted a creamy-white folio bound with silver wire. Dzelha had slipped tufts of silk soaked in bergamot-essence between Tahllea's toes and proceeded to glide over the Bladesinger's toenails with an enchanted platinum file.
"Cedar?" Jylzaela proposed, instinctively reaching for a fancifully-shaped crystal vial that had been made to resemble a pine cone.
"Why not? Your expert hands could never disappoint me." Tahllea said with a coquettish smile. She returned to envelope to the table and turned the first page of the folio. Her smile widened. Yssinel had, predictably, performed a very thorough research and noted everything down. The forest-fresh scent of cedar-wood wafted into the air as Jylzaela poured a thin stream of amber liquid onto Tahllea's forehead, allowing the warm liquid to seep down her scalp. "Today the Blessed Pole Star Queen has been generous to me." the Bladesinger said with deliberate satisfaction. She crossed her long, taut legs to raise her foot to a more comfortable height for Dzelha.
"How strange that you would say that, Lady Tahllea," Jylzaela breathed suggestively, carefully massaging the rich cedar-wood oil into the Bladesinger's hair. "We share exactly the same opinion." Star Elven courtship was stylised, ritualistic and deeply complicated, much like Star Elven society as a whole. The only times Jylzaela and Dzelha could enjoy casual, relatively informal company was when they travelled.
Jylzaela's voice faded into the background, Tahllea was far too busy revelling in each detail Yssinel had scribed. Sigrid, just as Tahllea suspected, was an upstart novice from an off-world militant order staffed mainly by humans. Her parentage was uncertain and she had systematically lied her way through Imej's high society, an affront that Tahllea could not tolerate. It was infuriating enough that Sigrid had become the talk of the town and the half-baked adolescent fantasy of many a starry-eyed Grey Elf girl, but the fact that it had been publicised that the Aasimar had challenged her to a duel was doubly maddening. The terms of the proposed duel suggested that she and Sigrid were in some way equals. But now, the truth was out in the open. As Tahllea's suddenly smug, golden eyes focused on Yssinel's elegant cursive script, she decided that, unless Sigrid cooperated, it would be revealed to the whole city that the Aasimar bitch was nothing but a girl masquerading as a blademistress and one raised by barbaric humans as well.
All of a sudden, Tahllea felt infinitely better. "Lady Tahllea," Dzelha said, replacing the file in the silver cosmetics box and carefully releasing the silken strips between the Bladesinger's toes, "as requested, I went for simplicity, would you like to inspect my work?"
Tahllea smiled wolfishly and set down the folio. "I am certain that your work has been flawless. Perhaps you would like to make yourself more comfortable." Dzelha felt her sex tighten as a pang of desire flooded through her loins. With slow, deliberate grace, she rose to her feet and loosened her shift, allowing the snow-white garment to slide, damp with condensed moisture, down her slim, but tautly muscled frame. The shift pooled at her feet. Tahllea sighed and admired Dzelha's subtle strength. Firm, compact breasts gave way to the hard, flat expanse of her belly, delicately lined with muscle like that of a dancer, and then to the plump, hairless mound of her sex at the union of her sublime thighs.
Unperturbed by her sister's nudity, Jylzaela concentrated on the finishing touches of Tahllea's hair, using a warm, silver wand to activate the firming agent in the cedar oil to give the Bladesinger's hair the desired shape and definition. "I see that I am to your liking, Milady Bladesinger." Dzelha said coyly. Her throat felt dry with desire. She could hear her heartbeat hammer between her temples.
Wordlessly, Tahllea loosened her dressing gown and let the offending garment slip open. The small, but perfectly formed hillocks of her breasts glistened with condensed moisture in the dull glow of the candles and the overhanging lamp. Her light rosehip-red nipples were hard as arrowheads, piercing the hot, humid air. She parted her thighs. It was only then that she became aware of the rich stickiness that hung like dew between her nether lips.
"Lady Tahllea..." Dzelha gasped. Between those athletic, alabaster thighs, a bright, pink flower nestled, just waiting to bloom. She drew a deep breath and her belly and thighs tensed in anticipation.
"This is the flower of a goddess." Tahllea said huskily, parting her thighs further to reveal a glistening, pink heaven. "You should feel privileged that you will be allowed to drink its nectar."
Jylzaela surreptitiously slipped a hand under her own shift and began to caress the fat, juicing mound of her sex in long, languid circles. She silently cursed the curling iron for taking its time with Tahllea's hair. Dzelha swallowed and then spoke, her voice trembling with need, "Yes, I feel blessed."
"Good. So come to your goddess." Tahllea purred. Dzelha took two steps forwards and knelt between Tahllea's thighs, running her fingers reverently over the soft skin of the Bladesinger's inner thigh. Tahllea moaned softly. Dzelha dipped her head and placed a soft, wet kiss on the Bladesinger's navel. Tahllea's belly strained under the erotic tension as Dzelha flicked her tongue out into the little furrow - a taste of things to come. The Star Elf girl trailed her tongue down the hard expanse of Tahllea's belly and then placed a second, firm kiss at the very apex of the Bladesinger's sex. As if she were handling a blooming flower, Dzelha traced the inner lips of Tahllea's pussy with her thumbs and tugged the wet, dewy petals apart. The scent of iron, musk and womanhood filled the air. It was a warrior's sex.
Jylzaela sighed in vicarious pleasure at the sight of her sister's long, sapphire-blue tresses spilling like a mat of tropical vines all over Tahllea's thighs. She swiftly set aside the curling iron and disrobed, tossing her shift across the room. Dzelha hovered for a moment above Tahllea's sex, admiring the blooming nether lips and the strands of pearly, gooey nectar that streaked the velvety inner flesh. Then, ever so slowly, she drew her tongue over the lust-inflamed petals. Tahllea gasped and reached out for Jylzaela's waist. Long, skilled fingers clasped the Star Elf girl's taut bottom, digging into the firm muscle. "Attend to my breast!" Tahllea hissed and Jylzaela happily complied, kneeling by the side of the armchair to place the lightest of kisses upon the Bladesinger's engorged nipple.
Dzelha paused for a dramatic moment between Tahllea's thighs and then began lapping lustily. She was deliberately languid, eager to raise the level of Tahllea's sensual tension rather than simply bring her to climax. The Bladesinger's taste was addictive. Tahllea's pussy had the delicious floral sweetness of a High Elf, but it was so rich with feminine muskiness that even Dzelha was taken aback. She licked, her tongue gliding over the neat, glistening folds and tasted steel. Just a trace of metallic richness, for Tahllea had scrupulously flushed the slick issue of her cycle out after her encounter with Min, but enough to drive Dzelha into a frenzy of lust. Tahllea had the flavour of pure, powerful womanhood.
Tahllea felt herself sink into a misty, sensual dream. Jylzaela's tongue was trailed wetly over her breast, leaving a slick trail all the way to the hardened peak of her nipple, where the Star Elf's soft, violet-painted lips clamped down. An electric jolt of pleasure shot up Tahllea's spine. She arched her back and thrust her earthy pussy into Dzelha's face while Jylzaela suckled diligently at her nipple, her breath hot and moist against the painfully swollen peak. Tahllea ran her fingers through Dzelha's braids, drawing the Star Elf maiden in closer. Dzelha did not disappoint. With loving reverence, she gently slipped two fingers into the aching, hot canal of Tahllea's sex and pressed down, hard, against the inner walls slick with musky nectar.
The Bladesinger bit her lip to stop herself from whimpering. Dzelha would be punished for her impudence. But, in the heat of the moment, all she wanted was Dzelha's tongue against her clit to dance in rhythm with the fingers thrusting in her channel. The Star Elf maiden between her thighs did not disappoint. Dzelha began to concentrate her licks on the glistening little jewel of Tahllea's clit. She lapped in a slow, provocative pattern, her tongue flat against the stiff little pearl, slowly savouring the rich nectar that coated her lips and cloyed her mouth. Tahllea gasped, her breathing growing ever more ragged with each lick of Dzelha's infuriatingly expert mouth. She seized Jylzaela by her braids and pulled the Star Elf maiden into a fierce, ravenous kiss. Jylzaela submissively parted her lips and let Tahllea's tongue master hers in a wet, lusty dance.
Tahllea's back arched as she felt the first spasms of her climax building like a knot of pleasure deep in her loins. She thrust her hips forward, mashing her pussy into Dzelha's face, drawing the Star Elf maiden's fingers in deeper. Then the tide of passion overwhelmed her. Tahllea's hips bucked hard three times as she came with low, moaning breaths, suffocated by the glorious softness of Jylzaela's lips. Dzelha continued licking, even after Tahllea had come. She was lost in that savoury ocean of nectar and silk. Only when she felt the sharp pain of Tahllea seizing her braids and roughly pulling her head up was her reverie interrupted.
"You impudent little harlot," Tahllea purred dangerously, leaning forward to devour Dzelha's lips with a deep, hungry kiss. "Never enter me unless I give you permission, understood?"
"Apologies, Lady Tahllea...but you were so irresistible." Dzelha said breathlessly. Tahllea smiled and twisted the girl's braids viciously, eliciting a surprised yelp of pain from Dzelha.
"Such an impertinent little strumpet," Tahllea continued, lasciviously running her tongue over the sensitive surface of Dzelha's pointed ear. The Star Elf maiden whimpered in pleasure. "Silly, giggling girls like you need a woman to show them their place. Elves, my dear," Tahllea began, measuring each word with a wanton lick on Dzelha's ear, "know very little about punishment. That is one thing we have neglected compared to humans. Humans, you see, often say 'let the punishment fit the crime'. What do you say to that, my sweet little strumpet?"
"Uhm...sounds fascinating, Lady Tahllea." Dzelha sighed. Jylzaela was behind both of them, lovingly kissing the slim, athletic muscles of Tahllea's shoulders as she thrust her moist, swollen sex against the Bladesinger's back, leaving hot, slick trails.
"Is that so?" Tahllea hissed, biting down maliciously on the tip of Dzelha's ear. The Star Elf maiden mewled in delicious pain, a single tear trickling down her cheek. "Then maybe you would like the honour of having both my hands in your Temple of Hanali."
Dzelha gasped. "No! I...mean, Lady Tahllea...I could never...I would bleed..."
"I certainly have no objection to that. Do you?" Tahllea retorted sadistically. She tugged hard on Dzelha's braids, forcing the girl to present her throat. The Bladesinger then trailed wet, predatory kisses over the soft, white skin of the Star Elf maiden's neck.
"Please, Lady Tahllea..." Dzelha whimpered piteously, hoping her sister would intervene to support her. Jylzaela, though, was far too busy lavishing Tahllea's ear with wanton licks to pay any real attention.
"I may choose to be merciful this time," Tahllea snarled, tracing her lips in the valley between Dzelha's breasts. The Star Elf girl was strong as she struggled against the Bladesinger's iron grip, but Tahllea was stronger. "But remember, girl, never play with fire." Another sharp jerk of her braids caused Dzelha to arch her back even more sharply. Tahllea smiled triumphantly and enveloped a stiff, violet nipple between her lips and bit down, hard, tugging the stiff little peak until Dzelha begged her, sobbing, to stop.
"Yes..." Dzelha hissed. "Lady Tahllea, show me my place."
"Very well." the Bladesinger said imperiously. "Jylzaela, lie on the armchair and hold your thighs open."
The Star Elf hastened to obey. She spread herself out on the couch, her bare feet planted on either armrest, nectar-slick pussy obscenely parted and blooming. Her inner lips were a deep pink, verging on lavender and drenched with milky arousal. Tahllea felt her mouth moistening with anticipation. The girl smelled of fresh violets and blueberries and forest undergrowth. She could not help but kneel between Jylzaela's thighs and place a few long, wanton exploratory licks on the hot, sodden folds. The Star Elf's nectar, rich and thick like cream coated her lips, trickled down her tongue. Jylzaela was glorious, spread open like that, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried not to thrust her soaked pussy too violently into Tahllea's face. Her clit glistened with juice. Viscous nectar drenched the neat petals of her inner lips and a single bead of moisture flowed provocatively down to the dimple of her anus - her tight, delicious violet-bud. Tahllea licked it off.
Satisfied with her inspection, Tahllea rose and shrugged off her dressing gown. "Dzelha, take my place and pleasure your sister."
"Lady Tahllea!" Dzelha gasped. She could not even begin to describe how depraved an act Tahllea was suggesting. Any further protest was silenced by Tahllea seizing her to draw her into a lusty, possessive kiss. Dzelha could taste the fresh, flowery musk of her sister's excitement, mingled with the steely heat of Tahllea's kiss. It was like a drug that opened a world of wicked, forbidden sensation. Tahllea's hands wandered freely over Dzelha's taut, athletic frame. The girl was perfect: snowflake-white skin over taut, yet undeniably female muscle. And, of course, as any Bladesinger worthy of that title knew, Star Elves had bottoms to die for. Elegantly curved and so firm it would put a Spellsword to shame.
"Now my kiss has brought your sister's essence with it," Tahllea, her throat cloyed with desire. "There is no further impropriety you should worry about."
"Jylzaela," Dzelha began hesitantly in Star Elven, "iiyh atiiej kheii dhiaitei tehaHanaliin?"
Jylzaela bit her lip and considered the burning need in her sex and the uncoiling, liquid fire in her loins. Her skin burned. Like her sister, her pale skin was flushed, tinged a light violet from the mounting passion that flowed thickly through her veins. "Aidhi, kysa iiyha." she whispered, blushing furiously.
Dzelha gathered her courage and knelt between her sister's thighs. The perfume was so familiar, so reassuring. So too was her sister's breathing. Tahllea, for her part, padded silently to the cosmetics rack and chose a vial of lavender oil, before returning to the armchair to give Jylzaela an encouraging nod. Without stopping to think, Jylzaela gathered her sister's long, sapphire-blue braids and drew her in closer to her sodden sex. Dzelha tasted nectar and saw her sister arch her back and thrust the blooming flower of her pussy forward. After that, nothing else mattered. Dzelha started licking with the same hunger she had shown Tahllea's sex. The tart, flowery taste, the soft, velvety texture, those were her own. In Dzelha's mind, it was like tracing the familiar contours of her own pussy, moist and yielding, all those times she and Jylzaela shared their family's vast, granite steambath, huddling close to each other for a sisterly chat or withdrawing to a steam filled corner when they needed time for themselves. Dzelha had first savoured the thick residue of her own passion in just such a secluded moment and it came as no surprise that her sister tasted exactly the same.
"Good girl," Tahllea purred sensually, gently caressing Dzelha's taut, arched back. The scene was so deliciously wanton that even Tahllea felt she had surpassed herself. Dzelha licked hungrily, eyes closed, her lips and tongue drenched with her sister's milky nectar. Jylzaela writhed in the armchair, her toes curling against the soft, red fabric of the armrests, as she clasped her own breast in her hand, rolling a painfully stiff nipple between her fingers.
Tahllea knelt behind Dzelha and sharply slapped the girl's bottom. The sound reverberated throughout the chamber. Dzelha groaned against her sister's pussy. The stinging sensation melded deliciously with the dull ache in her sex. Tahllea slapped the taut, deliciously firm globes thrice more, leaving an ever-expanding violet impression on the pristine white skin. Her more perverse side wanted to brand the Star Elf twins and Ilmaeria and Sigrid like humans did with cattle, so they could all be where they belonged: her cute, obedient little playthings with a tiny 'Tahllea' in cursive script seared into their buttocks. Tahllea quickly discarded the idea: to leave a physical mark was so crude, so human; a more Elven way of doing things was to master the mind and soul.
Dzelha shuddered as she felt warm, soothing oil being poured onto her stinging bottom. Tahllea was behind her, caressing the globes of her buttocks, trailing a malicious thumb between the tight crevasse of the two ivory mounds until she reached the drenched petals of the Star Elf's nether lips. Tahllea parted the inner lips of Dzelha's sex and slipped two fingers in, drawing a surprised gasp from the Star Elf maiden. Then, the Bladesinger poured half the vial's contents onto her outstretched palm, letting the thick liquid flow down her fingers. A third finger, slick with fragrant oil, was added into Dzelha's channel and then fourth. Tahllea paused, carefully flaring her fingers into her lover's channel, stretching the tight passage with each, coaxing thrust of her hand, forcing the budding violet into full bloom.
Jylzaela bit her lip and gyrated her hips on the armchair. Her sister's infuriatingly quick tongue was flicking long and hard against the stiff bud of her clit. She ran her fingers savagely through Dzelha's hair, her moans growing a breathier and more ragged with each lick. Her loins felt like molten metal, thick and pulsing and full of burning tension. Then Dzelha whimpered against her sister's clit. Jylzaela knew Tahllea had finally slipped her thumb inside Dzelha's stretched pussy.
The Bladesinger pressed herself against Dzelha's back, her nipples hard against the Star Elf girl's violet-flushed skin as she forced her mouth further against her sister's sex. Using Dzelha's strong, tautened thighs for balance, Tahllea thrust all five clenched fingers into the Star Elf's sodden pussy in one, hard thrust. Dzelha grunted and submissively spread her thighs further. Tahllea slipped her free hand against Dzelha's breasts, stroking the Star Elf maiden's hard nipples. Then she began to fuck Dzelha with long, steady thrusts, her fingers balled up against the sensitive inner walls of the girl's channel, exploring deeper until the Star Elf's defeated pussy clamped down on Tahllea's invading wrist.
The pain was sublime. It hurt, but Dzelha wanted it to go on hurting for an eternity because each thrust of Tahllea's hand fed the tight ball of tension in her loins. Soon, Dzelha thought, soon. Jylzaela came under her sister's expert tongue, her mewling gasps flooding the chamber, her hips bucking so hard that stray droplets of pearly nectar spilt forth to stain the armchair's upholstery. Dzelha continued to lick as if nothing had happened. She hooked her hands under Jylzaela's bottom to hold her still and used her thumbs to pry the sticky lips of her sister's pussy. All she could see was heat, sex and moisture, so when the pads of Tahllea's fingers rubber against that sweet spot deep inside her canal, Dzelha felt like she was being born again.
Dzelha gave a low, ragged cry and bit down, hard, on the inside of her sister's thigh as she felt the first spasm of her climax course through her loins. A tidal wave of heat and energy flooded her sex. Tahllea held firm and continued fucking Dzelha, just to show the girl that orgasm or no orgasm, she was always in control. The contractions of the Star Elf maiden's pussy against Tahllea's hand were sublime. So too were Dzelha's whimpering moans as she felt the waves of ecstatic agony continue to sweep over her. Her belly and thighs tensed with each spasm, but Tahllea would not stop thrusting until she was certain that Dzelha was too exhausted to climax again.
Then, once Dzelha's breathing had eased, Tahllea withdrew her hand, thick strands of juice streaking across the Star Elf maiden's thighs. "That was divine, Lady Tahllea..." Dzelha cooed, nuzzling the inside of her sister's thigh.
"Of course it was." Tahllea said, planting a soft kiss on Dzelha's fragrant hair. "Jylzaela, I believe it is your turn to be punished for being such a wanton slattern." Jylzaela nodded vigorously and climbed out of the armchair to present herself to Tahllea on her hands and knees while Dzelha stood obediently by, waiting for her mistress' instructions. It was then that the Bladesinger realised that something was missing. She had ordered Ilmaeria to join her in the bathing chamber before leaving the duelling hall earlier that day, but the wretched girl had never turned up.
***
If only
"Isn't it getting a bit late?" Sigrid complained amiably. The sun had long since set and both silver moons now dominated the frigid, Imej skyline. The great moon, Sehanine, was full, casting her luminescent radiance on the great glacier on the horizon, while her younger sister, Faenya, was on the verge of full brightness. That, to Sigrid, was the celestial reminder that the next day would be the day of judgement when she would either put Tahllea in her place or fail spectacularly in the attempt. Although the challenge had been made in the heat of the moment, the more the Aasimar thought about the situation rationally, the more it occurred to her that calling for a duel may well have been a little too hasty.
"Are you chasing me away?" Aravae whispered, almost inaudibly. As Sigrid had grown to know the Grey Elf better, it dawned upon her that the young Bladesinger's main flaw was her infuriating tendency to slip from being distant and formal, to meek and vulnerable in the space of a few moments. So, there she was, curled up defensively on Sigrid's bed, hugging her knees and gazing out blankly at the night sky. She still wore her sky blue duelling tunic. It was, Sigrid had to admit, a flattering outfit, for it complemented Aravae's long, slender limbs and elfin physique to perfection.
"No, silly," Sigrid sighed. If she had to be honest with herself, she was tense. Mjrina had not turned up for dinner and, Sigrid imagined, the Handmaiden had been caught up in one of Yssinel's shadowy dinners with fellow sorceresses. She had badly wanted for Mjrina to cheer her up before facing her destiny, but, upon further consideration, she decided that it was for the best. Mjrina's presence would merely have made her more nervous by filling her with an even greater anxiety to win. "But I thought you had to report to Tahllea."
"I do." Aravae sulked. Sigrid shrugged and unbuttoned her white and gold tunic, cast it aside on the chair by her desk and reached for the cobalt-blue satin nightgown Mjrina had laid out for her that morning. The fabric was cool against her skin, almost soothing. A light aroma of Kuythan Iris wafted into the air as Sigrid dressed for the night. Mjrina knew it was her favourite.
"Do you want something to eat? I'd rather not drink before the duel, but we could get some elderflower cordial..." Sigrid began.
"No. I'm not hungry." Aravae said wearily. Then her voice dropped to a soft, plaintive whisper. "Can I stay?"
"And if Mjrina comes?" Sigrid retorted, turning to face Aravae. The Grey Elf maiden looked so lost, frightened even. There was suffering in her silvery grey eyes, as if she were reliving a terrible memory.
"I...I'll sleep on the floor, I don't mind...please, Sigrid, please..." Aravae certainly did not beg, but for the first time, Sigrid imagined that she was not far from doing so. Whatever it was that made the normally self-assured Bladesinger swallow her pride, it was certainly a serious matter.
"You take advantage of me," Sigrid teased. She tossed open the hardwood lid of her clothes chest and retrieved the first nightgown she could find. "You know I could never refuse you." She padded over to the bed and sat on the clean, crisp sheets by Aravae's side to hand her the nightgown. "Here, get changed, you've been prowling around in that fencing tunic all day."
"Isn't this a little...pink?" Aravae joked. As if by magic, her mood had been restored by the prospect of spending the night in Sigrid's room.
"I know, it's horrible, but most of these clothes were chosen by Yssinel and who am I to criticise her tastes?" Sigrid could only chuckle softly to herself as Aravae neatly folded up her fencing tunic and stepped into a garment the Aasimar would quite conceivably have died before wearing.
"Oh, Goddess, this is ridiculous, is it not?" Aravae sighed, stealing a brief glance from the long, oval mirror. Sigrid had dimmed the lights for the evening, so that the only source of illumination was a brilliant sphere which revolved slowly, like an astral body, filling the room with a warm, cozy glow.
"Absolutely. But you would look wonderful wearing anything." Sigrid replied with sincere admiration. "You're always so...graceful, like a sprite floating in the wind..."
Aravae smiled warmly as Sigrid trailed off. It took Sigrid a few moments to notice that the Bladesinger was blushing. "You are too kind."
"Not at all. If you looked around and actually noticed how many people find you beautiful, you'd realise that life doesn't begin and end with Tahllea." Sigrid felt her stomach churn involuntarily with renewed nervousness at the mention of Tahllea's name.
"Maybe," Aravae concluded sadly. She joined Sigrid on the bed and watched the glow of the light-sphere shimmer over the gold thread of the tapestry that hung across the far wall of the room. "Lady Tahllea told me to join her for the evening. I would never have the courage to decline that kind of invitation, so, I suppose, the best solution is simply never to turn up."
"Why not today?" Sigrid inquired curiously, wrapping a comforting arm around her friend's waist and drawing her into an embrace. Sun-blonde hair, shimmering like the gold thread in the tapestry, swept over Sigrid's breast. If only she knew, the Aasimar thought, if only someone told her.
"My Mistress is...temperamental. On nights like these, she likes to be the conquering heroine, the warrior-goddess. Some nights, she will cradle me as we make love and whisper the most heartbreakingly beautiful compliments, but not tonight. Tonight, I saw hunger in her eyes." Aravae drew a deep breath and tried to remember the mornings when Tahllea was in a good mood. Then, she was allowed to have breakfast in bed with her and, almost inexplicably, Tahllea would make her tea and be the first to massage her with a soft sponge when they bathed. If only, Aravae thought, if only every morning could be like that.
"Was she going to hurt you?" Sigrid said indignantly, reflexively clenching her fist. The more she learned about Tahllea, the more she loathed her.
"Almost certainly," Aravae confessed. "But not physically. I enjoy passionate lovemaking as much as she. No, I think her plan was to make me share her bed with some other lovers of hers and that...that I could never tolerate. I would do anything she asked of me in the bedchamber, but never with another. That has always been my solemn promise."
"You deserve someone who will love you every day for the rest of your life." Sigrid said, indignant that Aravae allowed herself to be treated like a toy.
"I think I have already exhausted all the platitudes to describe my life." Aravae said wryly. She knew that her situation seemed ridiculous to Sigrid. The Aasimar was a free spirit and certainly suffered the authority of no other. For that Aravae admired her to no end. But Aravae was, first and foremost, a woman of principle. She owed Tahllea everything and had no intention of betraying her mentor, her lover - the one who had taken her out of the odious kitchen in which her mother worked and the dead-end life it promised.
"Then I love you Aravae," Sigrid answered fiercely. The word she used was ‘liy', which in Grey Elven faithfully represented what she felt: the love of a sister. "And..." Sigrid fervently kissed Aravae's soft hair, hoping to relieve the awkwardness of what she had just said.
"I know." Aravae said, huddling closer to her friend, her head pressed against Sigrid's breast to hear the comforting song of her heart. "But thank you for telling me."
"All right, all right," Sigrid sighed, feigning impatience. "Lie on my lap." Aravae happily complied, while Sigrid reached over to the bedside table and opened a lacquered, walnut box. She slid the box's mechanism open and carefully withdrew a pristine silk handkerchief, a specially concocted skin lotion that smelled faintly of heather and was stored in a tiny, alabaster jar and finally a reed like object, perhaps a finger long, with a small silver scraper on one side and a spotless cotton tuft on the other.
Sigrid set the objects on the bed and gently pulled Aravae's shoulder-length hair to one side to reveal her lovely, delicately pointed ear. She poured a little lotion on her fingers and began to massage the fragrant liquid onto the sensitive skin of Aravae's ear with the lightest of touches. Despite herself, Aravae purred with pleasure. Sigrid's movements were infinitely dextrous, so when she slipped the silver end of the reed into Aravae's ear, the Grey Elf Bladesinger felt virtually nothing at all, just a soft, pleasant pressure.
"Sorry if I'm not doing it right," Sigrid said, scrupulously cleaning nook and cranny of Aravae's ear, "I asked Mjrina to teach me, but I'm sure it feels a lot better when she does it."
"No..." Aravae said dreamily. "This is positively lovely. It was difficult to find much relaxation when I was a child. Do not be fooled by all the Grey Elves here who live in luxury, there are just as many who have no House and live in the Lower Bands of Imej. I suppose you always need cooks and gardeners, right?" Any bitterness in Aravae's thoughts was soon drowned out by the sublime caress of Sigrid's reed.
"No House? So that means your name is just Aravae, right?"
"Yes, though Lady Tahllea could allow me to join her House once she judges me a worthy Bladesinger." Aravae noted.
"Turn over." Sigrid ordered, before returning to the topic at hand. "Would you accept?"
As if in a trance, Aravae turned on her side to present her other ear to Sigrid's expert attention. She now found herself pressed close to Sigrid's belly, so close she could smell the subtle perfume of the Aasimar's skin. "Perhaps. Maybe we should leave that decision for another time."
"In a way," Sigrid confessed between deft flicks of her reed, "I don't have a House either."
"How so?" Aravae inquired. She had always been curious of the customs of other cultures, especially if the culture in question had given birth to a creature as fascinating as Sigrid.
"I was born among humans, humans from a world called Ortho. In my culture, your second name comes from you father, which is no good at all when your father refuses to acknowledge you. I was just Sigrid and though my half-sister could call herself Sigurdsdottir as well, I could not. Then, when I became a novice at the Order of the Radiant Path, all that was forgotten. Novices shed their second names and we all became sisters...at least in theory, but it was a good enough idea. Why would I want to carry my father's name, anyway?" Sigrid said defiantly.
"So it never pained you not to belong somewhere?" Aravae inquired. Sigrid's fingers were like feathers against her ear as the Aasimar applied a little more scented lotion.
"To be quite honest, it did, but only for a while. In time, I learned that being just Sigrid meant that I was free to decide what being Sigrid meant. When you take on other names, or become part of something bigger than just you and what you love, then you can no longer decide: you're told where to go and what to do and who you can be friends with. You give part of your being, your destiny, to someone or something else." Sigrid carefully ran the cotton end of her reed one last time in Aravae's ear and wrapped the reed in the silk handkerchief, setting it aside in a separate silver container to be cleaned.
"Thank you, I do not wish to sound vain, but I think I needed a little affectionate attention." Aravae said, placing a grateful kiss on Sigrid's belly.
"It's nothing." Sigrid shrugged. "I should be thanking you for taking my mind off tomorrow."
"Please, Sigrid, do not let the duel haunt you." said Aravae. "Mjrina and I will not think any better or worse of you, whatever the result."
Sigrid nodded absentmindedly and swiftly changed the subject. "What actually happens during the Celestial Sisters Festival?" The looming, silver-bright moons in the sky made her more curious than ever to penetrate into the rich mythology and folklore of the Grey Elves.
"Well," Aravae began, raising herself up from Sigrid's lap and letting herself fall back on the plush pillows behind her. Sigrid smiled and followed, so she could wrap her arm around Aravae's waist as they both stared out into the yawning night that spread out from the bedchamber window. "As you know, the sun is Corellon Larethian, the Creator God, whose bonded lover is Sehanine Moonbow, the great moon and the Mother Goddess, who, in turn, has a sister, Faenya, our second moon, and another bonded lover, the Pole Star Queen, the Goddess of the Star Elves and the brightest star in the night sky. In the Age of Dreams, the Progenitor Wyrm of the Green Dragons abducted Faenya and set her to dance on his pillar of skulls. She was rescued by Sehanine, her sister, who inflicted the Three Divine Wounds on the Progenitor Wyrm: she struck his eye with an arrow, his wing with her sword and his belly with her dagger. Thus, he was forced to release Faenya back into the world, which is why she is the second moon to become full."
"Her sword?" Sigrid said in wonder, the mythic scene from beyond the dawn of time filling her mind with images of epic battle.
"Yes, Sehanine's Moonblade: she broke it into two weapons - a sword called Beam and a dagger called Crescent."
"Do they really exist?" Sigrid asked.
"Every Bladesinger likes to think so." Aravae replied. "It was said that they were last granted to Tyrithina who became Queen of Muriith Ayr tens of thousands of years ago. But...you may find them tomorrow. Weapons of legend are not found, they find their wielders."
"Maybe we'll find them together." Sigrid ventured, giving Aravae's cheek a quick, but tender kiss.
"Perhaps...some day. I have never been far outside Imej and there is such a vast, wondrous world out there, so that I would love to have the freedom to travel." Aravae mused. She knew that Imej was in the northern regions of the world. Often, she dreamed of travelling south, until she reached the legendary Crystal Mirror Mountains, where the winged Avariel Elves lived.
"I'm cold." Sigrid shivered. They plunged together under the pristine white covers. Aravae instinctively snuggled up against Sigrid, nestling her head against the hollow of the Aasimar's neck.
"Sigrid?" Aravae murmured, feeling a little foolish.
"Hmm?"
"Can we have breakfast in bed tomorrow?" Aravae clutched Sigrid's waist tighter, drawing herself close enough to hear the lifeblood pulse in the Aasimar's throat.
"Uhm...all right."
"Thank you."
Aravae, as always, fell asleep almost immediately, transported to a world of dreams where, for the first time, Sigrid was by her side instead of Tahllea. It turned out to be one of the happiest dreams of her life. Sigrid pondered the two moons for a while and, when she was very certain Aravae was asleep, she whispered those three, fateful words again. If only.
***
The Ritual
"Are you certain you want the ritual, Mistress?" Mjrina asked with a little trepidation. The Inner Garden was utterly silent and illuminated only by a great skylight which allowed the silver moonlight to filter through, falling over the moist earth and the hard, gnarled trunk of a great and wide Shirrui tree.
"Yes, my dear Mjrina," Yssine