The Conjured and the exiles

When Daen awoke the next morning, images of the night before flooded back in no particular order; and it was with no little dread that Daen faced the day, she wished for nothing more than to slip back in to the nothingness and not have to deal with this can of worms suddenly thrust upon her. Darcia was lying beside her, close but not touching. He was still wearing his mask, but his hair had come free from its warrior plat and spilled out over the pillows in inky tendrils, some of it mixing with her own rich brown. Reaching out she twined her fingers in some of the glossy ebony strands. It slid through her fingers like water, as if it was escaping her touch, unused to been bound by anything, untamable. Daen was not used to seeing men with such long hair, it was almost feminine with its slight inclination to curl. There was something forbidden about it, his hair so well looked after, so desirable, the blackest thing that she had ever seen. The man next to her let out a waking sigh and Daen snatched her hand back. ‘Good morning.’ He said his voice horse from a nights disuse, Daen doubted it would be.

Although last night Daen had made her lord promise not to harm the assassin any more than was necessary for his capture, he informed her the next morning that he was dead having fallen off the roof while Veoine and his men were perusing him. Daen instantly known this was a lie, Nheimians who lived in cliffs and gorges did not simply slip off roofs. It was possible but unlikely that Darcia had not kept his promise after all. Daen knew by the dangerous glint in his eyes last night if lord Darcia had his way he would have rendered the man limb from limb with his bare hands for daring to harm her. There was however a more disturbing third option, that through her power, her curse she had indivertibly killed her on uncle, just as she had killed Rahim. Daen felt sick to the pit of her stomach, she had done it again, and there was no mistaking it, this time she wouldn’t be able to deny it even to herself.

Darcia was not all that surprised when the girl asked to be taken down to see the body. He thought that it was a bad idea but was unable to deny her such a reasonable request he escorted the girl down to the crypt. The man had been her family after all. When he had told her that the assassin had died he had been concerned over how she would take the news. Personally he could not understand how she was able to forgive the man who had tried to kill her, someone who was supposed to love her no less. The capacity of the woman’s heart to love surprised him. The body was laying in the chapel, a white cloth over it. The girl walked besides him, her face solemn and emotionless as his mask. She walked determinedly but reluctantly, like a sacrificial maiden been lead to the alter of old legends.

Once in the crypt, the young woman looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. She took a deep breath and twitched back the covers, revealing her attackers face. His features may have been damaged, part of his face crushed by the fall but the family resemblance still remained. The woman’s face froze in horror, and without a word she fled the room. Darcia tried to follow but the girl was long gone. He found her satin slippers where she had cast them aside so that she might run faster on the sometimes slippery polished stone floors. At least she didn’t mean to leave the palace. Darcia went back to the chapel to look at the face of the man who had tried to kill Dae. He wondered what was it about the girl that made her family desire her death so much?

Darcia when he set out in earnest to find the girl, discovered that she had diapered once again. He sent out his mental feelers for her, but he couldn’t pin down her exact location, she was somewhere in the plaice but that was all he could discover. He spent an hour searching and set some of his servants upon the task, but no one could find hide nor hair of her. The longer the search went on the more anxious Darcia became. So it was much to his relief that when Darcia returned to his room to get Bherith to aid him he found that the girl was safely curled up on his bed. ‘Bherith why didn’t you tell me she was in here, it would have saved me a lot of worry?!’

‘And what care I for your worry?’

‘Bherith.’ Darcia warned.

‘I would have told you if she was in danger.’ The sword answered sulkily.

Darcia sighed he could deal with his recalcitrant demon later; right now he was concerned about the girl. He called her name, but she did not respond her red rimed eyes open but unseeing. Gently he touched her shoulder even that got little response; she just rolled up her eyes to masked face before returning to that blank middle distance stair. She had suffered a grate shock, and now she was exhausted, her strange behavior was all explainable, she just needed time, but he still felt perturbed it didn’t seem like her. He spent another night with her in his bed, lying close but never had the gap between them seemed wider, there was nothing he could do to help her, neither of them slept much, both dealing with their own demons.

The girl refused to leave his chambers for two days, not venturing forth at all. It was another two days before she would agree to leave the plaice. Even then she only went to the temple, where according to the High Priestess she was no better. Darcia was at a loss he simply didn’t know how to deal with it. The grate lord did not fear much, but he had began to fear that haunted look in the girls eyes, and the deep despairing silence that settled around her now. She could be coaxed in to forgetting for a while, she would if goaded in to it smile and talk, but she would soon if left fall back in to that strange empty quiet, walking around like one who had received a death sentence.

But it was not until the high priestess came to him her usual swan like serenity ruffled, her news was a severe blow, as the young woman had informed the Priestess that she would never use her magic again.

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They had been traveling since early, Lord Darcia wakening her just as the dawn star, her names sake began to twinkle on the horizon. Groggy and cold she sat wretchedly on her little mare who was in a crabby mood herself having been woken so early. Cold bit her nose, her fingers, and her ears. She didn’t feal like she would ever be warm again. Since her lat encounter with her family she had felt tired, deathly tired, tired of everything in general. When she did sleep nightmares ensured that she got little rest, last night was no exception. So this morning she emerged on the court yard jogging to keep up with the nobles brisk stride, black circles around her eyes. Gone was her gentle dark lord who she shared a bed with at night, gone was the endlessly patient soft voiced man, this morning he had been replaced by Lord Darcia, a man with a voice of thunder, who broked no opersition, Duke of the Marchadians. He sat tall and straight upon Per, in his dark armor he looked formidable. Daen was fascinated by his helmet, which appeared to have two wings spread out either side, curving towards the back, almost like horns. He almost looked like a demon.

A cavalcade of men rode with them; newish recruits fresh from training with Veione, men and horses breath both was thick and smoky in the frigid air. Dawn broke orange, pink and dark blue the winter’s sun not offering much warmth, but the light and the quiet bell like jangle of harness metal lifted the girl’s spirit a little. She had to admit that the fresh air was doing her some good. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of going for a ride, riding always made her feel better. Since she was small Daen have found that out riding she could sort through her emotions and desires in a progressive way. She supposed it was because she was moving forward, supported by the horse in silent companionship, yet in control. Daen had in her musings come to the conclusion that she had been actively courting pain; she wanted to feel bad, as if feeling bad would serve as a penance for the guilt she felt.

Up and up in to the mountains they went until a settlement came in to view. Penburr, was a sleepy little market town straddling the Deluge River, nestled among the foot hills of the Varge Mountain. The town was an unsophisticated place, built higgledy pigledy under the shadow of a stark fortress that clung like a limpet to the craggy hill just above the town. The older houses had thick stone walls and slate roofs; there were no openings on the ground floor, which would serve as a store room. So to get in you had to climb a set of wooden stairs. Daen thought that the houses looked like had sprung from the land as organically boulders that peppered its hillsides, so solid did they look. She learned in her reading the buildings were built that way for defense against the raids by the Meiw, the same way that in Nheim they had lived high in the cliffs to defend themselves. She noticed that the newer buildings were built of wood, crowding around the riverbanks, and the edges of the town beneath its wooden stockade. The Fort had once been one of many. A line of defense against the raids of the last few centuries, but now due to the young lord Darcia’s tireless efforts threat to this well armed town was lessened greatly, the new less defendable buildings evidence of the towns people’s new confidence, though it still watched the border like an old snarling watch dog.

Men from the fort and towns people came to greet the party. Daen felt curious eyes upon her. She was dressed in a dark green, almost black cloak, with a sensible green woolen tunic beneath it, white leggings and a smart pair of long riding boots. Some of the women pointed and chattered amongst themselves, Daen had learned that it was unusual to see a grown woman not wearing a full skirt, Veione half teasing had told her that her leggings were actually talked of by some of the more conservative members of the household as scandalous. Apparently some of the town’s women shared the same view as they came to get a better look at Lord Darcia’s new companion. She blushed a little wondering if some of them had herd the malicious rumors that Vespa had been spreading.

They rode on, and through the poorer section of the town. Some of the buildings here looked temporary, cobbled together with odds and ends, thick leather strips serving as doors. They looked poor shelter from the harsh mountain winter. Cheeky small children came to investigate, poor, dirty, ragged, little creatures. Boldly they ran alongside the horses, tugging at stirrup irons, begging for money. The men scattered coins, Darcia grabbing a handful and flinging them up in the air to a chorus of children’s laughter and shouts. The children then dived upon their prizes like chickens on corn.

‘They are refugees.’ Darcia informed her when she looked up at him.

‘Where from?’ Daen asked.

‘I will show you.’ Darcia replied. Daen wondered what this was all about. He had never before made her come along on one of his excursions so why now. He had mysteriously told her this morning that he had something to show her. Daen had been working herself in to knots trying to guess what it was. The trail was hard work for the horses; it was narrow and slippery winding up and down the steep mountain sides. The snow was so deep in places that they were knee deep in it. The air up here was crisp and clean. When they paused for a brake, dismounting Daen looked down over the landscape, far below her was Glasslyn Lake, so big that Bala could not be seen so far away on its distant northern shore. The light was hazy, but bright, dazzling when reflected off the snow. Far beneath her the lake was a vast expanse of silver, like a mirror just as its name reflected. When clouds crossed the sun, the lake and the sky became indistinguishable in their blueness.

She felt Darcia’s presence behind her and said. ‘It’s beautiful.’ Her lord said nothing but he seemed pleased with the praise of his lands. ‘It’s so peaceful up here.’

‘Were it always so.’ Darcia answered her. Daen turned puzzled by the bitterness in his words. He looked down at her his face to the side in consideration. Right now his eyes were the same blue as the lake and sky, impossibly bright despite the shadows cast by his hemate. ‘We go by foot from now on. The trail is to hard for the horses from here on, but it is not much further.’

Darcia hadn’t lied it was not much further, but up a steep trail, in deep snow it was more than far enough, and by the time they had reached their goal Daen was pink with exertion. Darcia seemed to walk easily through the snow much to the girl’s envy. Darcia was the only one to know where they were going and at first Daen didn’t understand why they had stopped on what seemed like a random bit of the trail. Standing still however she noticed something on the wind, the smell of burnt wood left in the rain, moldy and smoky. Exploring further she realized that the mounds that she had first thought were simply contours of the ground was actually the snow covered burnt out ruins of a small hamlet or farm. The fact that the smell still remained was an indicator that the sack of this place was recent, only a few months ago perhaps. There was an opening, a doorway. Here would have been a window, and this one was a porch, she thought walking through the ruins the recruits following her example. A pot lay discarded in a sheltered corner. Daen picked it up and placed it upon a piece of wall the feel of cold iorn helping her block out the mournful voices. ‘What happened here?’ She asked voicing the question on all of their minds.

Darcia had his back turned to the company now turned to the assembled group. ‘The Meiw attacked here in spring, we were not expecting to have them so close so early. They tried to fight back with nothing but pitchforks; the Meiw killed many, raided, and then burnt down their houses disappearing before we could mount a defense.’

‘Evry spring the Meiw come, they steal live stock, but over the years they grew bolder, attacking outlaying houses, and a big band may even try there luck on a town. Last year they got through our defenses ten and four times, each time they do homes are destroyed and life’s are lost.’ He turned back to the view. ‘There are hundreds of places like this, places where the Meiw have sacked and destroyed. This spring I do not want this sort of situation to occur again.’ He stopped letting the atmosphere and his words make there impression.

Daen looked at her lord, with his black cloak flapping gently in the wind she began to understand why he was the way he was. He wasn’t always a bastard because he wanted to be, sometimes it was who he had to be, the duke, the lord. It was a part of him she would have to accept; this land and its people were part of him; just as they had been part of her in Nheim.

She followed his gaze to some odd oblong bulges in the snow; red ribbons billowed out from the top of one twisting and flickering in the wind. It was the way that these mountain people marked a grave, streamers that the soul could flow along to be free to dance in the wind.

Daen came to stand by her lord. He spoke softly. ‘Now do you understand why I need your help?’

‘My help?’

‘Your powers.’ He said, his voice low and almost growling looking to the side, but her face was masked by the depth of her cowl. ‘With your gift you could see the attacks before they happened, you could save lives.’

The robed figure paused for thought Darcia faced the young woman. In the day light her profile was reveled, a pretty young face, one so sweet that it was still impossible for him to imagine that she had brought a life only a week ago to a premature end. The young woman’s face now was drawn in to a faint frown ‘I thought you might understand. After all you have seen what my powers are capable of. I’m scared of what I can do. ’

‘By the God’s Dae, you are not the only one, ask anyone who carries a sword!’ The noble exclaimed.

‘A sword, and magic are nothing alike.’ Daen argued.

‘Your right, a sword is a tool of destruction.’ He said dryly. ‘No mater the reason for the hand to wield it, a sword will remain a weapon. Magic is not a weapon, it can be, but so can teeth.’

‘Teeth couldn’t …’

‘Trust me little one, I have seen men when desperate kill with teeth alone like wild beasts.’ He hissed before he caught hold of her obstinate chin to look in to her eyes. ‘Anyone desperate enough, who is forced in to a corner where they must fight to survive, will use any means to defend themselves, in a desperate situation, instincts can and do take over, there is no shame in that.’ He held her gaze; he watched the pain flicker across her face, the guilt, and yes the shame. ‘Dae you were not to blame for that man’s death, no more than a wild horse would be for lashing out with its hind legs to avoid being captured.’

Those were the words she had not wanted to hear words that were balm to her wounded soul. She managed to choke back a sob. ‘But what if it happens again?’

‘It won’t if you don’t let it. Learn to control it.’ Darcia said with conviction holding her shoulders. ‘Trust me it can be done. You’re not alone in your demons. Use your gift for good, prove them wrong, and redeem yourself if you feal you must. But use them; save lives if you won’t use your powers for their own sake then use them for the good of others.’

Daen looked up at her lord. Why did he believe in her so much? Where did his faith come from? Kicking and screaming her would drag her in to the fray, but he knew that she would survive it, his trust was heartening.’ I will try.’ She finally conceded weekly.

‘Good girl.’ He said his voice grateful. ‘That’s all I ask.’

The ride back down was just as arduous as the ride up. Daen talked too much, chatting to the recruits. But that was just her way to fill the silence that sought to take a hold of her. She didn’t want to think about what she had just committed too. At how her life ad diverted so far from where it started. In the beginning her life was like a stream straight and narrow, now she was in the ocean, with a multitude of opportunities and new ways to think. And somehow the noble man had made himself the center of that world.

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It was the darkest and deepest part of the night and Darcia was sitting in the inn’s private parlor alone. By the time they had reached the bottom of the mountain, the sun was low in the sky. He arranged for rooms at the Ox and cart. They could have stayed at the fort with the men, but with Dae in toe, concerned that she would catch another chill he opted for the more civilized inn.

Dae was an untouched stone, and he was the jeweler, with an expert eye he hoped to chip away the flaws until she shone. Of course that would take time, time he might not have. She had proved her bravery, she was not fearless but she rose to a challenge. The question was would she meet today’s challenge? He slipped in to his room and from the shadows he watched over her. She was sleeping, but fretfully. A nightmare? He moved close enough to touch her. Darcia knew that it was not only nightmares that disturbed her sleep at night. Since her awakening spirits, demons and ghosts all sought to plunder her mind. She had been doing well guarding her own mind with Samigina’s help but the encounter with the assassin had weekend her. Killing that man had ininvertedly destroyed one of her own defensive walls. His hand hovered over her face, seeking out the intruder, leaning down he whispered in her ear. ‘I am here. Noting will disturb you.’ The girl let out a sigh. Taking off his boots and coat he slipped in beside the girl, the bed was smaller than the one they shared in the palace making touching inevitable, not that that Darcia minded in the least.

Darcia awoke when the girl got up. He assumed that she was going to use the chamber pot. He heard the hall door close. What could she be doing up so late? Darcia wondered as the long minutes ticked by and she still had yet to return. His curiosity finally demanded satisfaction. Slipping out in to the small walled bear garden he found the young woman sitting huddled in her cloak her back turned towards him. He drew in a breath to chide her for going outside so late but the word’s died on his lips when he realized that she was shaking.

‘Dae?’ He called softly, concerned. The woman stiffened at the sound of his voice, but she did not turn to face him. Another sob wracked her body, and she furtively tried to wipe her eyes before he saw. But it was too late. ‘What’s wrong Dae?’ The noble demanded moving closer.

Daen’s shoulders suddenly sagged, and she shook her head in dismissal. Darcia stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder; she attempted to shrug his hand away, desiring only to be left alone. But he remained, and the tears still did not cease flowing, she hiccuped in the most distressingly undignified way. Darcia found her venerability strangely endearing, normally women crying was one of his pet hates. But he couldn’t help himself pulling the young woman in to his arms. Daen clung to her lord, his heart beet steady in her ears the metronome that was proof that she was not alone. Her family did not believe in her, she was tainted and she could never do anything right, her every action subject to censor, but this relative stranger did not want her to be anything that she was not, he believed in her, and all she could ask was why, why was it he looked at her with those soul piercing eyes in that way, as if she was important? She cried out all the bottled up pain until her sobs trailed away in to hiccuping sighs that faded in to silence.

Drawing in a shuddering breath she lifted her head to look at him. ‘Can I ask you something personal?’ He nodded. ‘What was it like for you when you killed someone for the first time?’

Darcia had not been expecting that question. He sighed and cleared his throat nervously. ‘It was a long time ago, I was still a boy really, and it was messy a battle, afterward’s I felt sick to my stomach but couldn’t show it. So I went with the rest of the men and got drunk for the first time, trying to wipe out the memory.’

‘And did the memory fade?’

‘All memories fade in time.’

Daen didn’t answer him but in the gloom of the night it was hard to tell where Lord Darcia ended and the darkness began, as such she felt like she was surrounded by his presence, hidden in the black folds of a night that watched over her and spoke to her in a voice of velvet. She shifted to look up at him her face bare inches from his own. The soft emotion in her emerald eyes drew him in. With a graceful gesture she cupped her hand over the cold surface of his mask, oh would it be his cheek!

‘Daen, my name’s Daen.’ The woman said her voice like a whisper in the wind.

‘Daen.’ He repeated. Darcia’s heart swelled with an emotion to large for him to name. It warmed him like a shot of brandy, no like larva burning within his chest. ‘What are you telling me now?’ He asked softly.

The girl shrugged. ‘If my family know I’m with you there is no point in hiding my name any more. And I know more about magic now; you can’t use it to control me.’

‘Can’t I ?’ he said his voice full of playful danger hiding the disappointment he felt at her answer. Daen moved to pry his mask off, by instinct he stopped her unwilling to have his face exposed when he felt so venerable. Instantly regretting that decision when he saw the hurt in her eyes he pulled it off himself and cast it to the side. When his attention turned back to the girl, he watched her take in his features.

Daen’s eyes ran riot over his face, drinking in his moon lit features. To her he was the epitome of masculine perfection with chiseled aquiline features, black brooding brows, piercing sliver eyes, framed by thick dark eye lashes. One feature remained atypical among the rest of his austere refined masculinity, his lips which were sensuously curved. He wonderd what she was thinking, but that thought was lost when her soft hand cupped his cheek for real. He leaned in to the contact letting her feel the yielding, soft and rough textures of his face.

Darcia had been watching the changing expressions on her face intently, and in the gloom he watched as her pupils already wide dilated further, so all that was left of her iris was a gold and prussian blue band that edged her iris, it was like watching ink spread across water. The noble couldn’t help himself and he lent down with nothing separating them but the air he stole a kiss from her plump little lips. It started off gently, a chaste brushing, but he found himself deepening the kiss unconsciously.

Daen wasn’t sure whether she wanted this or not but once Darcia really began to kiss her, using all his skill in the actions of his lips and tongue, Daen suddenly couldn’t remember why she wanted him to stop. And she didn’t care. Whatever it was, she was certain that it couldn’t have been very important, and she found herself so overwhelmed by his kiss that she had stopped breathing. With a gasp she tore herself from his lips and lent swooning against him.

‘I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that.’ He said his voice horse, he didn’t really sound sorry at all.

‘Its alright… I….’ Daen couldn’t finish, there was nothing to say really.

Panting still from the breathless kiss, her lips swollen, her fingers lifted to her mouth brushing against her still tingling skin, exposed and covered by her prim long white night gown with her eyes so wide and trusting yet uncerten. Darcia could not remember ever seeing anything so breathtaking, so carnal and yet as pure as this girl. If her famaly had known she would have been drowned like an unwanted kitten at birth. Someone like Daen shouldn't exist and yet she did, fortunately for him. Darcia would be the one to clame this unusual creature as his own. But not tonight, it was still too soon for that. He needed to be sure; he needed her to say the words. But now there were other things he could do, things that if he did them right might help the process along.

Retrieving the mask he had discarded, he held out a hand to her. ‘I think it’s time we got some sleep. It’s a long ride back in the morning, and we will be up early.’

Daen nodded. And they returned to there warm room. Darcia noticed how the girl had suddenly grown a little tense. But when he simply got in to bed and pretended to go to sleep he could tell she relaxed. He scratched his chin; it was good to be able to go without a mask at night. After a while he looked over at the young woman, she was lying on her back with her eyes wide open. ‘Afraid to go to sleep?’ She turned to face him, opening her mouth to ask a question. But he finished before she could, ‘You cry out in your sleep sometimes.’

‘Oh, I see.’ She sighed. ‘I just can’t get to sleep that’s all, thoughts keep running around my head, do you ever get that?’

‘Sometimes.’ He said, in the dark she couldn’t see his wolfish smile. ‘When I get tense like that I go to the baths and get a massage. It’s relaxing. I could give you one now it will help.’

‘What will?’

‘A massage.’

‘A massage, you mean…’

‘Don’t worry im not thinking of sex.’

‘No sex? Not even you hands there?’ She asked, remembering what his devilish digits could accomplish she doubted her own ability to deny her seductive lord; she couldn’t fight her own desire and his at the same time.

‘That depends on where you mean by there little one?’ His replied his voice gently mocking, and knowing.

She flushed hotly, her cheeks burning. ‘Alright, as long as you promise.’

Daen was tense, still nervous about what would happen, yet eager to find out. She was still thinking too much still her lord decided. If all went to plan he soon would have her mindless. He reached up and ran his fingers through Daen’s hair, letting the silky strands slip between them. Her hair really was lovely, the color of polished wood it just begged to have ones hands buried in it. He gently massaged her bent head, earning a sensual groan as Darcia explored unhurriedly and found all the points on the woman’s scalp that would set her entire body tingling. Daen moaned, looking ready to collapse back against him. Darcia smiled and slid his hands down over the back of Daen’s graceful neck and began to knead the tight muscles.

‘You need to relax, my love," he murmured. "This is only going to feel good.’

After a moment of hard kneading, the noble felt the muscles soften beneath his hands. "That's it little one." He continued the massage lower, working out the tight knots of the girl’s shoulders; this took longer, the girl obviously sensitive about her scars but he diligently worked on her back until she was practically purring, soft and malleable in his hands. ‘Turn over.’ He said in a low voice trying to hide the heat in it. She glanced curiously at him with those green, green eyes. He raised a stern dark brow in challenge. The girl had complied turning over, missing his unholy smile before she sat up resting on her elbows so that she could watch him. Innocently enough he sat back on his heals and massaged her feet.

She was ticklish, but with a bit of experimentation he managed to get the right pressure. Sitting up Daen found herself staring deep in to her lord’s silver eyes but the rest of his face belied the predatory cast that his eyes held. Achingly slowly Darcia massaged up and down each limb, and she found that far from relaxing her she felt a growing restlessness, and had to force herself to stay still. Each time he rubbed up her leg he pushed her gown just a little higher, and to lost in sensation she didn’t notice. Closing her eyes she sucame to the sensation, until she suddenly felt his hot breath blow through her cotton underwear.

The girls eyes shot open to look down at her lord, he had by now grasped hold of her hips, and was gently nuzzling her center with his lips, as if kissing that most sensitive of arias through the fabric. ‘Lay still.’ he said, and gently put a hand over her womb. ‘Trust me, it will make you relax and feel good, it should help you sleep. His black hair now free from its confines was a dark veil his silver eyes shone through, she tensed as he moved the fabric aside to caress the folds with his tongue and lips. From between her thighs Darcia smiled evilly into the darkness as Daen cried out, her head flying back. Recovering a little she glared at him. ‘You said that…’

‘You never said anything about lips or tongue.’ He said from between her legs, and then sucked hard on her clit causing her to gasp and jerk beneath him. "Have you ever had anyone touch you in this way?" he asked just before he began to flick his tongue quickly up and down over her.

"No…..never before you!" Daen gasped, twisting and writhing against the bed, trying to escape the onslaught of sensations. But Darcia’s grip held her firm. "Oh, gods, …….Oh, Gods!!!"

"That's it, Daen. Let go for me. Feel it."

It was becoming too much. Daen thought her entire body might burst from the torturously intense and powerful sensations drowning her. It was beginning to resemble pain. Every touch her dark lord made with his tongue upon the young woman’s swollen petals left Daen trembling and breathless, her body both afraid of the sensation yet straining for more, afraid to feel good at his hands.

Daen’s eyes fluttered closed, her hands falling slack to the bed as she collapsed backwards. A red flush drifted up her throat, over her breasts, and lingered on her cheeks as she lay gasping for breath and unable to find it. Darcia smirked, and continued to stroke her firmly, introducing his little witch to the wonders of another's tongue upon that most intimate part of her flesh.

"It feels good doesn’t it?" he murmured, watching from beneath his lashes as Daen writhed beneath him. Pale, slender thighs fell open, and her hips thrust upwards in an unconscious offering and Darcia had to fight the nearly violent urge to lie between those quivering thighs and push himself into her tight body with all his might. Sealing himself to patience Lord Darcia began to write out his name against her folds with his nimble tongue reading the signs of her growing passion A. N. D. R. A. S. Her breathing becomes faster, more desperate.

D.A.R. And she clenched her hands in the blankets beneath her.

C. I.A. And the girl could not controllable jerking of her hips.

He licked Daen steadily, now moving on to his many titles, and his lineage. Some where around protector of the temple the green eyes woman’s moans filled the otherwise silent night. When the green eyes opened again, they glimmered golden in the moonlight. Feeling distracted by her look he shut his own eyes and gave himself over to the task of driving Daen insane with pleasure. Daen was so excited by now, so wet, so ready, taught as a bow before you release it to let the arrow fly; it stole the noble’s breath away. But the girl should have found completion by now, somehow she hadn't.

‘Don't fight it,’ Darcia murmured turning his head aside to kiss her quivering thigh, and then returned to his task, greedily sucking on her painfully swollen core. The new sensation made Daen release a desperate moan. ‘Why are you holding on?’ he asked in a soft voice. ‘It's alright to let go. It's alright, Dae Don't be afraid.’

‘please,’ the girl whimpered. ‘Please!’

Darcia didn't know what she was asking for. For him to stop? For him to continue? It could have been either. Lord Darcia had never had anyone fight their own body this way. The girl’s body was so taught, her core was throbbing, and Darcia knew that her state of arousal must be nearing that of pain. ‘Come for me.’ Darcia breathed ‘Just let go.’

With a broken cry, Daen arched up, her release nothing short of spectacular. Darcia breathed a sigh of relief as warm liquid spilt from her on to his tongue and chin. Carefully he licked up her spilt desire, the taste unique to her was that of sex, and something faint and sweet, ginger bread. The young woman made a choked sob and dropped back to the bed bonelessly a lone crystalline tear roiling down her flushed cheek. The noble man crawled back up the bed to pull the still trembling woman in to his arms, she clung to him as if he was the only thing keeping her from spinning right off in to the sky.

They lay together, and in his arms he felt the woman’s heart beet gradually even out, and her breathing slow. Her eye lids were laden, but she seemed calmer, sated and still languid from climax. A small smile dawned on her face as she sighed in contentment. ‘You fought that the entire time, you beautiful, desirable, little fool Daen!’ His chuckled his breath fanning her hair. Kissing her temple she felt him smile against it, repeating her name once more. ‘Daen.’ He sighed it. ‘Daen.’

Darcia had been right; her dark lord’s special massage did help her sleep. Infect she had the best night’s sleep that she had in a long time, stupefied and languid from her climax she drifted in to a deep and dreamless sleep.



a/n; This chapter has taken ages! Hope you all enjoy it! And for anyone who like's Leoff he get's his moment on stage soon!

Thanks for reviws from Luinil_Telcontar, and ashesxx2xxashes, (you’re a star for sticking with me!)