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Part 4


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#1 Guest_Flarn_*

Posted 19 February 2007 - 04:50 AM

Khalid's eyes widened as Jaheira rose up on her toes, a heat in her eyes that had nothing to do with anger. He knew it with a sudden certainty that she was going to kiss him. Never mind that she was way too good to him, never mind that his father had told him he would never amount to anything. Jaheira was going to kiss him!

Shaking with anticipation he steeled himself for the first touch of her lips on his. What would it be like? His heart was pounding and he was dizzy with excitement.

"Khalid, Father wants to know if - " Nabil stepped into the vestibule, and stopped dead. "Ah..."

"Go away," he hissed at his brother, hoping Jaheira wouldn't notice.

"What?" Jaheira drew back, puzzled.

"Sorry," Nabil said, although it was plain he wasn't, he was smiling broadly, enjoying his younger brother's discomfiture.

Khalid frowned darkly, not amused at all. He had been so close to paradise, closer than he had ever dreamed he would be. "G-go away!" he said more loudly.

Nabil chuckled. "Someone is frustrated."

By all the gods, that smug smile! Khalid had always had a semi-cordial relationship with Nabil, but right now he wanted to wipe that grin right off his brother's face. In fact, he looked around the vestibule for a weapon, for something...

He had thought his chances were ruined, but he had not counted on Jaheira. Another woman would have blushed becomingly, made her excuses, and beat a hasty retreat, but the Druid plainly had other things in mind.

"Come on!" Before he could react, Khalid found himself being pulled along by his arm, through the front door and out into the night.

"Wait!" he stuttered, but Jaheira held him in a firm grip, tugging him along with such determination that he was sure she would have continued dragging him even if he lost his footing.

She took him around to the side of his father's impressive home, into the shadows between the house and the wall that fenced in the gardens.

In the dark she suddenly became crimson, feral, to his elven sight, her eyes slanted shadows, the hollows below her cheekbones slashes of midnight. Her hair shone like a blood-dark nimbus around her face, warm from her body. He could smell her now: pine and herbs, smoke and amber heat. He wasn't sure how much of it was soap, or perfume, and how much was her own natural scent, but it didn't matter, it was intoxicating.

He could hear her breathing, and his own. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

She pushed him back, back, until he felt the coolness of the garden wall pressing against his spine, a pleasant contrast to the heat of his body.

And then her mouth came up to cover his. It was open, and he was shocked, uncertain what to do. Reflexively his fingers tensed, scrabbling on the wall behind him, looking for somewhere for him to hold on, to brace himself against the unknown. He hadn't ever really paid much thought to kissing, apart from distant fantasies. He certainly hadn't expected he would be doing it with anyone in the foreseeable future.

Then he felt her tongue teasing at his lips, making him shudder with intense new feelings. Unconsciously he relaxed, and she found admittance, exploring him with a sudden gentleness that made him shake even more.

Her hands sought his, prying them from their feeble grip on the wall, pulling them up so that he embraced her, the autumn gold of her hair tumbling over his fingers. Unable to help himself, he buried them in the exquisite softness.

For long moments he submitted to her onslaught, studying every motion, as he had once studied swordplay, allowing her to teach him. Then he tentatively returned her kiss, exploring her has she had explored him.

Jaheira growled softly, and deepened their embrace, showing him just how much she had been holding back. The ferocity of her aroused him beyond anything he had every imagined.

His head was spinning, he was intoxicated with her, he was seeing dark spots behind his eyes, a darkness that soon closed in on him...



"Khalid..." from a great distance he heard a voice calling him. Female. He didn't know any women. Who could it be? Whoever it was, he wished they would leave him alone, he had been having such a wonderful dream...

Smack! The sharp blow to his cheek made his eyes fly open and his heart leap into his chest. He sat up with a terrified shout, looking around frantically for his attacker.

Then he saw Jaheira, crouched beside him, and his panic dissipated as his memories came flooding back.

"Jaheira! We were..."

She nodded.

"And then I..." He groaned. "I didn't..."

"You did." There was soft laughter in her voice.

Mortified, he cradled his face in his hands, realizing that as she was half-elven too, she could see him blushing, even in the dark - why his face was probably lit up like a torch!

But she wouldn't let him hide, and slowly peeled his hands from his face. "Look at me."

He looked.

"It's alright," she told him, and he realized the laughter in her voice was amusement, not derision. "As a matter of fact, it was flattering. I never made a man faint from pleasure before."

"I f-f-find that hard to believe," he answered shyly.

The Druid sat back on her heels and regarded him thoughtfully. "I'll give you this, Khalid, your tongue may tie itself in knots, but its silver all the same. And..." she leaned closer, whispering, "it learns very quickly."

"Err, thank you." Silently he blessed whatever gods were listening, they had been with him tonight, and for that he forgave them all their many absences.

"Next time, though," she advised sagely, "I suggest you breathe."

Next time? The thought made him tingle all over.

"Khalid," Nabil's voice called. "Are you out there?"

"D-damn," he said. Footsteps drew nearer.

"I must go," Jaheira said, looking startled, as though waking from a long sleep. She rose to her feet.

"Don't go."

"I am not welcome in your father's house," she told him. "I have delivered my message and that is all I can do." Pulling away before he could touch her again, she took a few steps back, as if he was a blazing fire that radiated too much heat.

"What about an inn? You don't know the city - " His mind scrambled for something, anything to make her stay.

"I'll find one," she said, taking another step, and suddenly melting into the darkness like a shadow.

He despaired, wishing she had given him something more, anything, even one more word.

Then her voice came to him, rough and low out of the blackness. "This has all been a terrible mistake. Don't look for me."

And then he wished she hadn't.

Nabil's voice came again, and his footsteps sounded even closer, bringing him out of his stunned... disappointment was an inadequate word for what he felt now. He couldn't face him, couldn't face anyone, least of all his smiling elder brother.

Feeling his way along the garden wall, he found the footholds and handholds he had discovered long ago, and began to climb. Once he reached the top, it was an easy matter to drop over the other side, landing deftly on his feet.

He settled into a corner, drawing up his knees. They would never find him here, not unless he wanted to be found.

For long moments he stared into the darkness and thoughts would not come, only the tears that ran unbidden down his face.

Then one thought did come, and it was worse than the absence of thought: he had asked Jaheira not to break his nose, and instead she had broken his heart.



Khalid stayed in the garden until sunrise. He must have slept, because he awoke to find his clothes damp with the morning dew. He felt awful, like someone had beaten him. Someone with a steel shod quarterstaff. That would have been kinder, perhaps.

Getting to his feet, he stretched his aching muscles. He had to admit he was accustomed to a softer bed, whether he wanted to be or not.

He went to the back door and tapped on it gently, and after a few moments one of the servants let him in with a wink. He had spent nights out in the garden before, trying to be closer to nature, so there was nothing surprising about his behaviour.

Khalid tried to tell himself that it had all been a dream, that he had slept outside and the moon had done strange things to his head. That didn't work too well, so he tried not to think at all.

He found his footsteps had taken him to the baths, and he decided that was as good a place as any. Undressing quickly, he grabbed one of the drying sheets that were left out and made his way into the bathing room proper. He had washed yesterday, and was still clean enough, so he contented himself with a sluicing of water before submerging himself in the hottest of the pools.

The heated water was a balm to his sore muscles if not to his spirit, and he lay back, resting his head against the rim of the pool, as he willed all the pain to slip into the water and float away. How many times had he come here, seeking solace, after a disagreement with his father? In those days he found it hard to imagine that life anywhere could be any different. He had been certain he was doomed to remain like this, with an existence rather than a life. Then, like the sun's rays breaking through the clouds, she had come, and offered him only a taste of beauty before leaving him feeling more alone than he had ever felt, even during all his lonely years as an outcast in his own family.

A taste... his fingers found his lips, remembering the touch of her mouth on his, as if he could feel the way she had changed him forever in a matter of short moments. He tried to tell himself it was only a kiss, and perhaps that was all it had been to her, but to him... the passion, the heat, the unbearable sweetness... He should have known, he should have known better than to think it was real, that it was something he could have.

As tears began to mingle with sweat he bit his lower lip, hard, as if to take away the sweeter memories. Angrily he rose from the heated pool and plunged into the cool one, savouring the shock of the cold to his overheated system. Almost immediately he began to shiver. Distraction. Good.

After a few moments he began to swim, letting the cool caress of the water cleanse him. A few laps, and then he dove under the water, expelling all the breath from his lungs to reach the bottom where he sat contemplatively, crossing his legs and staring up at the surface. The watery silence filled his gently pointed ears, but She followed him, even here. It used to be a game for him, to see how long he could hold his breath - for a brief second he wondered if he could hold it one second longer. Then memories of last night flooded him, sending him gasping to the surface, memories of how he had held his breath as they kissed, how it had felt, his lungs close to bursting, though he hadn't cared.

He forced himself through a few more laps, but his heart wasn't in it.

What else to do? A book? No, that required concentration that he didn't have. Sparring with the practice dummy? Perhaps. When his mind did not provide him with anything more suitable, he opted for the practice dummy. It was set up in a courtyard in the gardens, one of the only places, apart from his room, that was just for him.

Getting dressed hastily, Khalid managed to get up to his room to pick up one of his swords without being noticed, and made his way to the courtyard.

He unsheathed the sword with the first real enjoyment he had felt since awakening. There was something about the sound of a blade leaving its scabbard that brought him to a centred place within himself. Laying the scabbard on a bench, he worked through a series of basic training drills to warm up, and then attacked the dummy.

Swordplay required a different sort of concentration than reading. He turned his focus completely onto the actions he performed, his world dwindling down to the sound of metal on metal, the feeling of the blade in his hand. From basic attacks he moved on to more complex patterns, executing them faster and faster, until he was moving as fast as he could, the blade a silver whirl that the eyes almost couldn't follow.

He hacked at the dummy until he felt himself start to slow, weariness beginning to overtake him. At this point he always pushed himself just a fraction longer, because that fraction of endurance could make the difference between life and death. Finally, he was finished, and tired enough that he thought he might be able to get some real sleep come nightfall.

Sheathing the sword, he placed it next to him on the bench and sat for a moment to cool down. Sweat poured off him in rivulets, and he realized he should have saved the swim for afterwards, but he hadn't exactly been thinking clearly. Oh well, he could run upstairs, grab some clean clothes and then bathe again. It wasn't as though the water had gone anywhere.

Yes, another bath was just the thing... but not right away. It was nice to sit quietly and cool off, savouring the first moments of peace he'd had since... no, don't think about that. He pulled off his damp tunic without a thought, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, sighing deeply as the breeze cooled his heated skin. No one ever came to this section of the gardens, so it didn't matter what he did here. He could probably have walked around stark naked without anyone being the wiser, but that was one thing he hadn't been brave enough to try.

The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat made very grateful he hadn't tried today.

With a shout of alarm he shot to his feet, his sword in one hand, and his tunic in the other, unsure as to whether he should be defending himself or protecting his modesty.

"There is no need for that," a soft feminine voice purred. "You have nothing to fear from me."

It sounded like... but it couldn't be. Hadn't she said it was a mistake? Hadn't she told him not to look for her? What was she doing here? Then a thought hit him, making him feel like a complete idiot. Yes, she had told him not to look, but she did not say she wouldn't be back.

If she was really here at all. He turned full circle, looking around for the source of the voice, but there was no one. Was he going mad? "Who's there? Show yourself!"

There was silence a moment more, and then rich, honeyed laughter. Then, against the trunk of one of the trees, something began to move, a figure, detaching itself from the main bulk of the tree and walking towards him. It was shaped like a woman, but where there would have been skin, there was instead thick, knotted bark, and leaves instead of hair. Regardless of her unusual appearance, the tree-woman strode towards him confidently, as if there was nothing at all unusual about her appearance.

"Put down that sword," a familiar voice told him. "I'm not going to let you use me for firewood, besides Druid doesn't burn especially well unassisted."




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