Catherine Asaro - The Night Bird

Allegra pushed up on her hands, and this time he let her go. She went to the chest quickly, so she could get what she needed before he changed his mind and decided he wanted her instead of her singing. She wondered if he was always like this, so mercurial and restless.

Ornate dragon patterns in emerald, gold and onyx inlaid the chest. Inside, she found a mans toiletries: rough soaps, washcloths, a wooden brush with stiff bristles, a shaving blade with a pitted hilt, a strap to sharpen it and picks for cleaning the teeth. It told her how “dangerous he perceived her to be, that he let her rummage through personal items that included a knife. Even more mortifying was the accuracy in his estimation of her. She had little experience with blades; if she threatened him with the knife, he could easily take it from her.

A compass in a circular case lay in one corner. Picking it up, she closed her eyes and reached with her mage sense. More than a disk but less than a flat cylinder, it stirred her power. Yes, she could use this.

“Bring the brush, too, Markus said drowsily.

Allegra picked up the brush. When she stood, her head swam. The constant strain of the past few days had taken its toll. She couldnt even call it a nightmare, because she awoke from dreams and this had no end.

When her head cleared, she returned to the pillows. Markus was lying on his back, breathing deeply, and relief washed over her. But then he opened his eyes. “What do you have?

She showed him the compass. “Is that all right?

“If you want. His lashes lowered over his eyes again. “Put my head in your lap while you sing and brush my hair.

Brush his hair? She would never have expected that from Jazids notorious outlaw prince.

The pillows were worn and large, with embroidered dragons similar to the Jazid flag. Self-conscious, she slid under him until she was sitting cross-legged with his head in her lap. With a sigh, he turned his head and pressed his lips against her inner thigh. His constant intimacy flustered her, and she was so tired, she feared she would fall over backward with nothing to lean against.

Allegra set the compass on the cushion by her hip so its cool metal pressed her skin. She lifted a length of his hair and ran the brush through it. Or tried. The heavy locks were so knotted, she could only untangle a few strands.

“Your hair is a saints forsaken mess, she said.

“Hair is hair, he mumbled.

“Dont you ever brush it?

Markus yawned, showing a row of healthy white teeth. “Not really.

“Its all ragged. In the back, it curled down his neck to his shoulders, but on the sides it only went over his ears. She hadnt even realized he had bangs until she worked out their knots. The tangles had kept them off his face, but after she brushed them, they fell into his eyes.

“Whoever cut it did an appallingly bad job, she said.

“I cut it, he said sourly.

Even when she didnt intend to insult him, she did. “Well, she amended, “its clean. After a moment, she said, “Im surprised the prince regent of Jazid has to cut his own hair.

“Im hiding from an invading force that conquered my country, he growled. “We dont have the personnel to spare for amenities.

“Oh. She could see his point.

Allegra contemplated the man lying with his head in her lap. Brushing his hair comforted her for some odd reason. It took her a while to figure out why. Most people in the settled lands had straight hair; curls were only common in eastern Aronsdale. Markuss mop of curls reminded her of the boys back home.

She gazed at his body stretched out before her. He had a magnificent form. Under different circumstances, she might have desired him. In fact, if she had met him in Aronsdale, she would have considered him far out of her league and been intimidated by his sexuality and fierce beauty. He seemed larger, darker and so much more intense than any man back home.

Yet he lay quietly while she brushed his hair, the tension easing in his shoulders. The unlikely combination of his banked ferocity and his wish for her to play with his hair was appealing, even erotic. When she turned his head so she could reach the other side, he put his arms up around her hips and stroked her bottom, then let his arms relax back onto the cushions.

After Allegra worked the knots out of his hair, it took less concentration for her to brush it. At that point, she focused on the compass, which still pressed firmly into her leg.

And she sang.

The compass wasnt exactly a cylinder, but the shape was regular enough to bring her spell alive. The lullaby poured out of her, smooth and hypnotic:

Sleep my child, sleep my love

Through the night, my sweetest dove

None of that applied to Markus, except perhaps night as a metaphor, but it would do. She wound the song around him in a golden spell, the color that soothed physical or emotional pain.

Markus fought.

He never moved, never opened his eyes, and she didnt think he even realized he was fighting. But his body wouldnt let him sleep. She tried adding a touch of emerald to the colors, and to her surprise it worked. A mood spell formed, letting her sense emotions. He had no idea he was resisting a spell. She felt his fatigue, his tired muscles, his hardened thoughts of Emperor Cobalt, the man who had stolen his country, his people and his birthright. And she felt his need to sleep. He wanted to sleep. But tension coiled within him, and worries plagued his thoughts.

A haze of eroticism overlaid it all. He wanted her with a lust of bewildering intensity. He barely controlled his urge to take her as hard and as rough as he needed to satisfy that hunger. Yet despite how much his culture approved his using his pleasure girl however he pleased, he held back, for it mattered to him how she felt.

Her spell even absorbed bits of his memories as they affected his mood. They painted a grim picture of a land whose angry, violent men felt they had nothing to lose. Cobalt had taken everything, including their pride. In this country with far fewer women than men, the soldiers from the Misted Cliffs too easily seduced Jazidian women with promises of a better life. The fury of the men here simmered, ready to erupt.

She sang softly, verse after verse, fighting Markuss anger and insomnia, until finally he surrendered to a deep slumber.

Allegra opened her eyes. Gradually she realized the spell had put her to sleep, too. She was slumped over Markus, and her legs had gone stiff with the weight of his head.

The cold prodded her into action. The braziers had burned so low, they shed almost no light or heat, and she wore nothing except a few chains around her hips. When she slid out from under Markus, her muscles protested, and she winced. Even if he hadnt posted guards, she doubted she could have gone anywhere. She teetered on the verge of collapse.

Rising stiffly, she rubbed the ache in the small of her back. She retrieved her robe, but the silk offered little warmth against the night. Barely able to stay on her feet, she pulled at carpets until she found one supple enough to use as a blanket. Then she retreated across the tent, as far from Markus as she could go, and lay down, wrapping herself in the carpet, with the compass cradled against her stomach. The weave of the rug chafed her sensitized skin, but its warmth was lovely.

The moment she closed her eyes, the oblivion of sleep dropped over her and she knew no more.

Tanner and Allegra wrestled, rolling in the hay that filled the loft. Sunlight sifted between planks of the barn, and dust motes danced in the shafts. He pinned her on her back, holding her down with his weight, while she struggled under him, pressing her body against his. The first time they had wrestled, he had kissed her with tenderness, but this time he took her lips as if he would take command of the world. He grabbed her hands and held them by her shoulders, holding her in place with the weight of his body and the demands of his kiss. She had never known this side of Tanner, fierce and hungry.