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Calain woke with a start, sitting up breathlessly in the nest of her discarded clothes. Imodel had been sleeping in her arm but sat up as well when Calain released her. Calain couldn’t breathe. Her chest was heaving rapidly, her cheeks were flaming, and she was wildly aroused. No . . . Zelda was wildly aroused!
Calain glanced desperately around, as if she would spy Zelda somewhere in the wine larder, making love to someone else. But all she saw were great barrels of wine spreading away in rows. What was happening? Was Zelda sleeping with Melvalda again? Or had she found yet another lover? Calain gritted her teeth and decided it did not matter – she would kill whoever it was! Her pa was right! She should have stormed Ravenhold and murdered Melvalda in her bed!
“Going to . . . cut off . . . someone’s head!” Calain said through her teeth, struggling to pull her trousers on.
“But what’s the matter?” said Imodel in amazement. Like Calain, she was naked and sitting upright in the pool of her black clothes, her great breasts trembling with her slightest moment. Her pink nipples were rigid in the cold of the larder, which had made them so deliciously wonderful to suck minutes before.
Calain stood and buttoned her trousers, then reached down and snatched up her linen bra. “Nothing’s the matter,” she snarled, “except Zelda! Always Zelda! She hath driven me mad for the last time!”
“You felt it again, didn’t you?” said Imodel, amused. “Zelda off with someone else . . . tasting someone else. . ..”
“Do not jest,” warned Calain, pausing to point a finger. She snatched her tunic up and pulled it on next, her bright red hair bursting through the collar.
Imodel folded her arms. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot how serious your knightly vows are to you. That’s why you abandoned Zelda and fucked me for six hours in the wine cellar.”
Calain scowled. “Do not mock my pain.”
“Oh, poor sweeting,” said Imodel, not unkindly. She got to her feet, picking up Calain’s sword and sheath from the floor as she did. She offered them to the knight.
Calain took the sword and strapped it to her back once more. “I felt her fucking someone again,” she said through her teeth.
“So you may fuck who you please but not fair Zelda?” pointed out Imodel, touching a finger to her lip in mock thought.
Calain paused and sputtered, “That’s—That’s not the point! I did stray after her betrayal! And this time I shall slay them – whoever they are!—and keep their head as a trophy!”
“My, aren’t we bloodthirsty!” said Imodel gleefully. “If only I could go with you to see this bloodbath. Shall you kill Zelda as well?”
Calain frowned. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “What? No! Of course not!” she cried, horrified.
Imodel pouted. “Well, I suppose I’m not surprised. You do love her after all. . ..”
“I do not love her!” Calain shouted, pointing a warning finger at Imodel, who only giggled at her in great amusement.
“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” Imodel said lustily, hunger in her blue eyes. Her big breasts jiggled slightly, and Calain, feeling the arousal suddenly flush through her, groped one of Imodel’s heavy breasts in a strong fist and kissed her roughly on the mouth.
Imodel shivered in Calain’s grasp, and when Calain had turned away, she giggled and twirled a lock of yellow hair around her finger, staring after her in delight.
Calain mounted the stairs and had barely set foot on the landing when a sword came down on her. Her reflexes were immediate: she reached out and caught the wrist beneath the hand that held the sword, coming eye to eye with Eiran, who was sneering as he trembled in her grasp.
“This isn’t a fight you shall win, Eiran,” Calain calmly told him.
Eiran flushed angrily. “You dare!” he hissed. “You dare trespass on our land, fuck my sister—”
“Were you looking to fuck her yourself?” Calain mocked.
Eiran twisted free with a roar, startling Calain as he flipped away from her. Calain was staggered from the motion, and as she caught her balance, she saw Eiran land, crouched like a cat twenty feet away.
Calain slowly reached back for her sword, reminding herself that Eiran – though weaker than her – was still a trained assassin of Venom Six. He had been wearing the black uniform when first she met him, and it was likely he was proficient with a sword. His threats were not empty.
“I want no quarrel,” Calain said.
“Then you should not have fucked my sister!” Eiran shouted and launched at Calain.
Their blades met, crossing hard. Calain gritted her teeth as she shoved Eiran off. He was not as strong as she, for she had the strength of three men, but he was light and fast. As Calain lumbered after him, he was quick to dodge and parry, always just out of her reach, leaving little cuts and slashes where he could, until Calain was dripping blood from her trousers and sleeves as she struggled, grunting and roaring, to catch him.
“Thought you would just stroll in here,” snarled Eiran, “and take whatever you wanted! You humans took our land, and now you think you can take our women!”
“As if women were things to take!” Calain scoffed, bringing her sword down on Eiran so hard, he staggered as he parried. Calain roughly kicked him back before he had caught his footing and slashed him across the cheek. Blood tossed from the blow, and Calain came at Eiran again, punching him against the wall and dazing him, so that he dropped his sword. She pressed her forearm to his throat and held him in place, and he dangled there, gasping and sputtering and prying pointlessly at her muscly arm.
“I shall not slay thee,” said Calain, “because it would hurt thy sister too greatly. But hear this: your sister is a woman grown, not a little girl and not a possession to defend. She lay with me because she chose to, and tis no business of yours.” So saying, Calain sheathed her sword on her back and released Eiran, letting him drop to the floor. She could still hear him gasping and sputtering as she marched away.