Dance With the Enemy (3 page)

Chapter 3

Arms lifted, Elenya allowed her gown to slide into place, the silk whispering down her body making her shiver. The corisan assigned to help her giggled behind a discreetly lifted hand. She leaned in to whisper something to the innocent maiden.

“Tonight you will know the feel of a man’s hands instead, my lady.” Her voice was as silky as the material she’d slipped over Elenya’s head. “That first touch is something you will not soon forget.”

Elenya shook again, though for different reasons. Eyes lowered, she remained quiet, hopeful the other woman with her heavily kohled eyes and lips tinted a deep red would understand the subject was not one she wished to discuss. Nor did she want to look the part of a harlot as so many of the other maidens did as they prepared for the Dremis Ceremony. She was already bound to one of the warriors, had been since she was three through the marking that would allow him to find her when she became of age. Why then must she be paraded before the warriors of the Centrehead at all?

With a touch none too soft, the corisan lifted a brush to Elenya’s honeyed-cinnamon hair and began the tedious task of untangling the thick crop of curls that fell down her nearly bare back.

“It’s a pity this gown was designed to cover your lovely hair, my lady.” She ran a strand of Elenya’s tresses between her fingers. “This exact hue has not been seen since the days of Princess Damalenya, I’m told. In fact, had your mother’s hair been slightly darker, she would have been the one chosen…”

“Ceeda!” The voice of the head mistress stopped the woman’s wagging tongue. The heavyset woman strolled toward the pair, her curled fists thrust into what had once been her waist. “Folklore is best left to the story tellers, not the corisans of the Dremis maidens.”

The green spheres of Elenya’s eyes darted between the two women as she stared at their images in the reflective glass. The older woman’s mouth barely shifted from the tight line, only a brow lifted above one eye to emphasize her statement. The impact of her words, however, was as clear as if she had shouted. Elenya’s corisan bobbed, her dark hair falling over a bared shoulder as she curtsied to the head mistress. She kept her eyes averted until the older woman turned and the sound of her footsteps could be heard on the far side of the room. Only then did she look at Elenya’s reflection and roll her eyes.

“Close your mouth, dear. Such is unbecoming to a lady.”

Neither is your smirk, Elenya thought, though she did as instructed -- more out of surprise than propriety. She was glad this girl did not belong to any of the families she would most likely be paired with. She was certainly nothing like the Lady Larina who had accompanied her on the trip from Aleone. She had been every bit a lady, even given her position as mistress to many as one of the Ladies of the Courts. Elenya wallowed in the loneliness she’d felt ever since they had been separated upon their arrival in the Centrehead. She hoped women like Ceeda were the exception. Surely such behavior would not be tolerated if displayed more than rarely.

Her mind went immediately to Cerissa, another woman she’d met on the trip from Aleone. They’d picked her up along with others at one of the two stops made to take on additional Dremis maidens between her home harbor and the Centrehead. Elenya had developed an instant disliking of her, especially when she’d noticed the masked interest the other woman took in her. It made her uncomfortable, as did Cerissa’s incessant attempts to flirt with the crew, specially trained to turn off their emotions where women were concerned to protect the innocence of the Dremis maidens. Her mother would have said Cerissa was on the prowl, with her cap of spun gold that draped down her slender frame in a riotous cascade begging a man to run his hands through it. Never before had Elenya seen eyes a more beautiful blue, nor had she realized such an ethereal vision could exude such an air of one seeking mischief. It seemed obvious to her that Cerissa had every expectation of making a good match even though Elenya quickly learned she had no royal blood running through her veins. No one seemed to know exactly where she came from. In fact. When Elenya had inquired during one of their onboard gatherings, Cerissa had attempted to embarrass her by telling the group she was a Goddian warrior commissioned to protect precious cargo aboard. She’d looked directly at Elenya when she spoke the words.

The lines of Elenya’s tinted lips thinned. The Goddians were a group of mythical women hailing from a non-existent territory. They were trained as stealthy combatants, sent into areas where the presence of men would have alerted the enemy. Cerissa, a Goddian warrior! To have to share her warrior with a woman such as that … she would not have it!

She sighed knowing she had no say should the man whose mark she carried decide to take a second – a woman to warm his bed after his obligations with his chosen were taken care of. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. The mingling of the blood was designed to create a bond that heightened his desire to stay faithful to the one marked for him. But all too often, the men strayed, taking seconds or becoming regular visitors to the halls of the Ladies of the Courts. Again she found herself hopeful Shemek’s words would come true. She desperately wanted the man whose blood ran through her veins to have feelings for her beyond those created by the marking – the marking intended to ensure the royal bloodlines by assuring a fierce desire quenched only by…

Elenya’s cheeks flared with an intense burning.

“The Dremis Moon hangs high, ladies. Time to assemble in the Great Hall.” The head mistress clapped her hands and called the women together. The warriors had returned from the last of their training only that day. They were anxious, many optimistic their chosen had come of age. Others were interested only in a warm body pressed next to theirs.

Elenya rose, hopeful the man whose blood she carried was one of those seeped in expectancy. She wished her heart was not so heavy. Perhaps then a more positive outlook would have come easier. With held breath she fell in line, only to let the air out slowly in an attempt to ease her nerves. She knew her angst was for nothing, for in a few hours it would all be over anyway. The thought did little to lessen her fears.

Chapter 4

Nose in the air, he sniffed. She was there. He could smell her.

His shadowed eyes danced over the crowd of women dressed to entice – as if their attire was required for that. The throng of warriors that trailed behind him were hungry, some driven by the need spurred by lengthy denial, others already half-mad by the scent of their chosen which assailed them the moment they entered the hall.

With ease he swept past the women vying for his attention, his keen sense of smell propelling him forward. The increasing intensity of her scent kept him focused. He pushed away a blonde pawing at his arm. Others stepped before him, only to move quickly aside to avoid the same fate. His eyes, wide with madness, darted about. She was near, though he couldn’t tell where. He cursed the Masters for their silly rituals, making the warriors hunt through the throngs of women, both marked and unmarked, until they found their own -- all of which worked to heighten already aroused animalistic needs.

He wondered if his chosen knew him – had her system gone on high alert as his had, letting her know she’d been marked as his? It wasn’t like every woman there didn’t know
why
she was there. It was the season when those who had come of age were sent by their families. The marked would be paired with their chosen from other royal families. The others would, if fortunate, find favor with one of the lesser warriors – still a privilege guaranteeing a life of prestige. Some would take on the title of second, becoming a mistress to a warrior who had fulfilled his duties and secured the bloodlines with the birth of future generations. Others became Ladies of the Court, providing pleasurable companionship to the men of royal lineage who either had no marked or whose chosen mate had not yet reached the appointed age. Even as one of many women, it was still a station garnering favor and comfort within the walls of the King’s castle.

For years, that was the position Tahruk had found himself in – fulfilling his lusty desires without consequence. He had assumed it would be the same that year, until he entered the hall and caught her scent, realizing for the first time the madness he had seen in fellow warriors as they went about locating the woman marked for them.

Looking over the sea of women, he cursed his luck. The rumors were correct -- they looked better this year than any he could recall. Hopefully his chosen would not disappoint, though he cared little at that point. His need was simple, requiring a feminine body with or without the benefit of looks. He merely wanted a woman in his bed. It had been too long, the latest training rituals taking them right up until that night, keeping the women segregated from the men.

Where was she? His frustrated gaze fell on a golden-haired vision leaning against the support post across the room. Arms crossed over ample breasts draped in the finest of gold silk, she watched him without pretense. He knew she knew what she wanted …
him
. As he moved toward her, the others quickly stepped aside, disappointed, knowing where his long stride was taking him.

He smiled. The scent, of
his woman
grew stronger with each step toward the golden goddess sporting everything he liked. Tall and slender, fair hair that spilled over her shoulder like spun gold, light eyes that danced with mischief, the Masters in their omniscience would have known and paired him accordingly. He licked his lips in proud anticipation thinking how other men would praise him, knowing his marked was the finest of them all.

As he closed in, his nostrils flared. A small, dark figure darted past him, causing his direction to switch abruptly only steps from the blond temptress. Hawk-like eyes peered into the wave of feminine forms.

“Where are you?” The words were a low growl in his throat. He plowed through those that moved too slowly, the other woman forgotten.

Every turn he made, the woman marked for him seemed to be just beyond his grasp. Was this part of the game? The crazed intensity of the unusual mating dance made him light headed. Him! The King’s finest, outmaneuvered by a slip of a woman. All sense of reasoning fled him. His only need was to get his hands on her
now
.

“Freeze!” The boom of his deep voice did exactly that. Men and women alike, no one moved … save one. Not more than an arm’s length from him the small figure, covered from head to foot in black silk, bolted from the crowd and darted toward the door.

“Stop her!” He moved after her, impeded by the women who had not so long ago enticed him. He thrust them aside with no care for any who stood between him and his marked.

Three different men tried to get a hand on the shadowy figure, slowing her only slightly before she gained access to the door and ran free. The warrior smiled as he too slipped into the darkness beyond the hall. Did she not realize she had just made finding her easier? Not only would her scent be unmixed with the others, she had just entered his domain. The outdoors was where the warrior felt most comfortable, especially in the land where he had grown up and played throughout the ages.

Nose in the air, he sniffed before turning his head to the right just in time to see the dark figure slip into the brush beyond the square. What a pity the rough thicket would mar her delicate flesh. She hadn’t chosen wisely. The dense growth would surely hamper her movement in the long skirt as well. All the better for him. He nearly purred with anticipation.

“You can’t escape,” he called with his first step crunching the underbrush. It never dawned on him to wonder why she would even want to.