The Problem With Princesses, page 31
Huh, wasn’t sure I could do that.
“Let’s see the other one,” Andra said, pointing at the straw men.
“Ummm…” Borus said.
“What? The slime is interesting, but it doesn’t justify paying you forty stones.”
“Well, those spheres were about four times bigger than I was expecting...”
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“Were you holding back earlier, with the cork?”
“Yeah, why?” Cal said.
“Eternus, mother of—” Borus raised a tightened fist and then sighed. “This is why we do prototypes.” He turned to face Andra. “I based my math on a flawed assumption. The explosive will be a bit…stronger than I thought.”
“Stronger isn’t bad. How much stronger?” Andra asked.
“You should probably command everyone to stand back.”
Andra watched him for a second, before sucking in a tremendous breath.
“Form up!” she shouted loud enough to reverberate across the entire field. The entire contents of the practice yard made a hasty formation, their spines straight, eyes forward.
“Against the wall!” she said, pointing to the other side of the yard, away from the straw targets. After a minute, she grunted in satisfaction.
“Calvin, the range is yours. Impress me.”
Damn, I hope these things are good.
Shaping.
4/11 Bent remaining.
A shimmering sphere manifested in between the targets before atomizing in every direction, and then, a fraction of a second later, the entire practice yard was as bright as the sun, radiating painful levels of heat from a hundred feet away.
Just as fast as the light came, it was gone, and Cal was able to open his eyes.
The straw men were gone, the posts holding them up were drastically reduced cinders, and most telling, the wall behind the straw men was glowing orange where the outer layer of stone had been melted until it was shiny.
“That was the same as Malkenrovian Mage’s Fire,” Andra said, her jaw slackening. “That was Mage’s Fire!”
“So it was,” Borus said with a grin. “So, about that forty-stone bill?”
Andra immediately regained her calm, narrowing her eyes at the little berry-shaped man. “How many more are you making?”
“A dozen different types, at least,” he said. “None quite as destructive as this one, but each will have its own effect. And they are reusable, of course.” He pointed at the steel vial in Cal’s hand. “As long as the boy has Bent, those vials can be used as components to create a variety of effects, endlessly.
“Each one of those vials’ interior is coated in glass and reinforced with steel, and should last years before the contents degrade. I also had this made for them.”
It was a small leather belt with dozens of small sleeves that fit the vials perfectly. Borus slipped the blue vial into the sleeve to prove it. The little tabs on the top of the vials were there to make sure it was easy to draw them.
Cal was still staring at the glassed practice yard. He glanced down at the vial in his hand.
Hooollyyy shiiit.
Oh yeah, I’m liking this. Let’s call it Fireball for no particular reason. We can call the slime one Grease…for no particular reason.
“I can’t argue with good work,” Andra said, reaching out and shaking Borus’s hand. “Forty stones; twenty now to cover your costs, and twenty on delivery.”
“More than fair, general,” Borus said with a grin, shoving the belt into Cal’s hands.
“Horas,” Andra said, pulling the Fireball out of Cal’s hand and giving it to her lieutenant. “Take this to the academy and ask them what their excuse is for Splitters not taking part in the war. It better be a good one.”
“Ma’am,” Horas said, taking the vial and running away at full speed.
“Now, let’s get that payment written up,” Andra said, she and the little berry man turning away.
“What about me?” Cal asked.
“Stay here! Lance will take care of you.”
“Who the hell is—”
“I’m Lance,” a man looming over Cal’s shoulder said. “I run the practice yard.” He glanced over his shoulder at the lined-up onlookers staring at Cal.
“Back to it!” he shouted, and the gawkers flinched, returning to their practice. The archers went out to a shed and dragged more stakes, hammers, and straw men out to the crispy side of the yard. Cal could feel one of the guys he’d slimed watching him with a fair amount of hostility, but that was fair.
Cal wrapped the belt around his waist and put the blue vial near where his hand rested.
“You must be Andra’s new pet wizard,” Lance said, eyeing him critically. “Still got your baby fat. Ever been in the army before?”
“No.”
“No, sir.”
“No, sir.”
“Alright, let’s give you the experience. Start running.”
“Huh?”
“NOW NOW NOW!” Lance lunged for him and Cal started running as he was unwittingly herded toward the group of jogging recruits, blending in with them for cover.
Lance let off him once he was jogging with the rest of the recruits. He could already feel their curious eyes on him, prickling from every direction. At least they weren’t overtly hostile.
“You the one that made the explosion, some kind of Malkenrovian mage?” one of them asked, a short, barrel-chested young man about Cal’s age.
“Yeah, but I’m a wizard.”
“You’re Malkenrovian, though,” another chimed in.
“Well, yeah.”
“What’s it like being a noble?” a short girl with close-cropped hair asked.
“A wha?” Cal asked, craning his neck to glance over at her in confusion.
“Wizards are all nobles, generally. At least, the ones who can do stuff like that. It’s hard to raise your Mind very high when you’ve gotta put food on the table.”
“That makes sense,” Cal said. “I’m more like a series of freak accidents than a noble. My mom’s a shepherd.” That can kill people with her bare hands. Cal was starting to find that a little suspicious.
The surrounding glances that he felt against his skin softened somewhat.
“What about your dad?” the barrel-chested boy asked.
“What dad?” Cal scoffed. There were plenty of decent male role models strewn around the village, but most of them were at arm’s length.
I can be your male role model.
Shut up, you.
“Sprints!” Lance shouted, and everyone except for Cal burst into a mad dash, removing his cover and allowing Lance to hit Cal across the back with a switch.
Agh, son of a bitch! I’m definitely not inviting this guy to my kingdom.
Definitely.
Over the course of the afternoon, Lance tried to break Cal, but being raised by Karen…he was more than prepared for grueling exercise. At the end of the day, Cal collapsed into a pile with the rest of them, drinking from wooden mugs with shaky hands.
“Form up!” Lance shouted before Cal was quite finished drinking. Cal jumped to his feet, struggling to find a place to stand. Finally, they were arranged in a nice five-by-five square, spines straight.
“Calvin, you’re out of line!”
“What?”
“As the lowest rank of officer, you may be everyone else’s bitch, but you still outrank the enlisted to either side of you. Come to the front, far right.”
“Well, you are a wizard,” a boy next to Cal said softly.
“Huh.” Calvin stepped out and placed himself at the front, rightmost position.
“Now, we are going to work on your salutes, with an emphasis on how to salute a superior, because for most of you, that’s going to be all you do, and for some of you in particular, it could be a matter of life and death.” His gaze settled on Cal for a moment.
Crap.
***Kala***
“How about this one?” Kala asked, turning her scribble over and showing it to Ella. Her translator didn’t need to interpret at this point, since they’d been over this so many times.
“A bit sharper on the top,” Ella said. “Sharper.” She made a triangle with her fingers. “Top.”
“Ah.” Kala erased the scribble and started changing it to Ella’s specifications.
As it turned out, Calvin Gadsint didn’t have a family crest, much to the surprise of the Diviner paid to find it for them. He said it wasn’t possible, that everyone had a family crest since hundreds of years ago, but he couldn’t explain why a drop of Calvin’s blood gave them nothing.
So Kala had stepped in and took the opportunity to design it for him. Since it was going on Ella, she got to have a say in it, and they put their heads together to create a work of art. Something simple, but elegant. They were currently sitting in the lobby of the skin-artist, a beautician who tattooed upper-class citizens.
They could have gone down to the slave dealer and gotten it stamped out real quick, but it would have most likely been ugly, with messy lines.
The slave dealer… Kala thought guiltily as Ella excitedly watched her draw over her shoulder.
“Are you…okay with this?” Kala asked. “Getting Cal’s house symbol on you? It means he owns you.”
Her translator dutifully interpreted her words into Genosian babble.
Ella blinked at her for a moment, then laughed and blurted out a torrent of words that made the translator rock back on his heels.
“What’d she say?”
“It was a little confusing, but it was something along the lines of, and I’m paraphrasing here: It doesn’t really bother me. It won’t change the fact that I practically own him already. We're bonded more deeply than that, and if he dies first, it’ll be a nice little reminder of my Chained Spirit. Otherwise, his Chained Spirit can have his mark on it. It’s a win-win.”
“Chained Spirit?” Kala asked. “Wait, practically own him already? What does that mean?” She bristled at the friendly girl’s grin. Did she seduce him with that gorgeous body? Kala found her eyes roaming Ella’s curves. I wish I could… Kala shook her head, glancing at the faint pink tether pointing in the direction of the castle, where Calvin was.
Stay on task, Kala thought to herself, putting her mental blinders on while her translator carried on her question. Do not be distracted by amazing boobs or the fact that Cal put on a lot of muscle since you last saw him.
“It’s something unique to my people. I will show you what I mean when we get back to the castle,” Ella said with a smile.
“Now. Where do you think the tattoo would make my Incha Huala lose the ability to speak?” she asked, pointing at her breastbone. “Here?”
“I don’t—”
She tugged her skirt down, revealing the very top of the juicy curves of her bottom. “Here? Ooor…” She slid the waistband of her skirt down until her entire lower stomach was revealed, dangerously close to exposing her womanhood. “Here?”
Kala’s heart was hammering in her ears, the skin of her face burning. “Uuuuhhh….”
Ella grinned. “That’s the one,” she said in Gadveran.
Trevor the translator spoke something harshly in Genosian, causing Ella to give a dissatisfied grunt before tugging her skirt back up.
“I’m sorry, princess. This savage has no sense of propriety.”
“No, it’s fine!” Kala said, a little louder than she intended.
By the gods, I feel like I need a drink of water, and maybe a bucket of it over my head.
“So, which one do you want?” Trevor said.
“Can you give me a minute to decide?” Kala asked, her voice a bit squeakier than normal.
Chapter 34: Make Me a Sammich
***Kala***
“So the Guya, when used properly,” Ella said, motioning with her hands, “establishes a very strong, very stable bond, with an Uenha, and a Poeor.”
Kala glanced up at the translator, who shrugged. It seemed like the words went over his head, too. She looked back down at the pink aura flickering out of her body, looking like a flame that pointed in the direction of Calvin. It was like the Genosian girl was a Calvin compass.
Ella wasn’t really looking at where she was going, either, but every turn brought them closer to Cal.
“The Poeor wants what is best for the Uenha, and the Uenha wants what the Poeor wants. It varies a bit between individuals. This is actually a better bond than both wanting the best for each other, or wanting what the other wants, as they can lead to cross-purposes or strange emotional paradoxes. We discovered this through much experimentation with the Guya in different amounts and mixtures.”
“So which one are you?” Kala asked, curious.
Ella blushed and glanced away. The tall Genosian’s embarrassment was a lot cuter than Kala had thought possible.
“The Uenha,” she muttered quietly.
“Is that bad?”
“No, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just…” She raised her hands in fists before relaxing them by her side again with a sigh. “...not the role I expected to take. I’ve always been the one with stronger Will.”
“Does that mean you have to do what he tells you?” Kala asked.
Slave magic existed in Gadvera, but it was, for the most part, crude pain- or suffocation-inducing enchantments that owners used to condition their property. Kala had never heard of anything as subtle as what Ella spoke of.
“Not even a little bit,” Ella said. “But I want to, as long as he wants me to.”
Ella glanced down at Kala in a way that reminded her of a hungry animal, sending a shiver of fear down her spine. Fear, and the tiniest tingle of lust.
“I want everything he wants.”
“Is that so?” Kala said, returning her attention to the crowded street in front of them. Let’s not overthink this. She’s probably talking about something else. Not me. That would be… Unbidden, the idea of being encapsulated between Ella’s soft body and Calvin’s lean muscle came to mind, and the tingle of lust redoubled.
For the briefest instant, she could imagine herself burying her face in between those soft mounds, reveling in the Genosian’s silky skin while Calvin got behind her, using her distraction to—
“Hey, look at that!” Kala shouted to distract herself from her unprincesslike thoughts. “Fried gardor bits!” She pointed at the food stall on the side of the road, where the vendor hawked his product to passersby. Gardor was a large land predator that was a bit gamey, but good chopped into smaller bits, heavily seasoned, and put on a stick.
“They smell good,” Ella said as they walked toward them. She stopped a few feet away and considered for a moment, seemingly consulting something.
“Let’s get some extra. Calvin is hungry,” Ella said, nodding.
She can tell that? Kala might have dismissed the Bond talk as the words of a savage so neck-deep in her ritual culture that she couldn’t see beyond it, but…
Seer has reached Level 5!
Seer Level 5: See the truth of the soul.
+1 Intuition.
Please choose an Ability from the list of compatible ones—
Kala took a deep breath and forced the messages away, like she’d been trained. As a princess, it had been drilled into her to put the utmost consideration into her Ability choices. Definitely not something she should do on the side of a busy street, walking with her crush’s beautiful…slave…thing?
Honestly, the dynamic of their relationship was causing her more than a little stress, and she had far too much on her mind to make a calm decision now, so she put it off for when she could get her uncle’s advice.
“Sounds good,” Kala said in response to Ella’s suggestion, and Trevor fished some small copper dust coins out of his bag and gave them to her. The smell of the heavily seasoned meat was starting to affect Kala now, and by the time she got to the front of the line with Ella, she was starving.
When she got to the front, the vendor took one look at Kala’s silk clothes, then his gaze flickered over to the towering Genosian barbarian, who smiled at him with her sharp teeth.
“What can I get for you, mistress?” he said, smiling and bowing deferentially. Kala was well known, but not that well known. A vendor on the street wouldn’t know her right away. The man was merely bowing to her clothes.
“A dozen skewers,” she said.
“Five dust, please.”
It was a bit more than she expected, but well within their price range. She dropped the copper pieces on the table, and the man swiftly handed the skewers to Ella, who began eating them immediately.
“Ahh.” The vendor paled as the person he’d assumed was a slave began eating her mistress’s food. Kala enjoyed his confusion for a moment, before she took pity on him.
“They’re for her,” she said with a practiced, gentle, princesslike nod.
“I see. Yes, that makes sense.” The vendor nodded, and returned to his business as they left.
“Pass me one of those,” Kala said once they were back in the street, and the Genosian handed one of the greasy sticks over without complaint, currently working her way through the meat at a prodigious rate with those sharp teeth.
“I’ll never get tired of how many spices you lowlanders use,” Ella said, smacking her lips between shearing off pieces of tough meat with ease. It was impressive, but it didn’t distract Kala from a question that had been burning in her mind for a while now.
“Have you told Calvin all this, about the Uenha and Poeor?”
“Not exactly, no,” Ella said, her expression a bit guarded.
“Why?”
“A few years before she died, my mother told me to never let a man know exactly how much sway he has over you. She always had my father picking up shells, so I figured she probably knew what she was doing.”
“Picking up shells?”
“Obeying her every whim?” Ella responded.
“You mean wrapped around her finger?”
“Why would she wrap him around her finger? How would that even work? He’d have to be tiny, and malleable, like some kind of plaything… Ooohhh.”
Kala giggled as the Genosian stared into the distance, her jaw slack as she pondered the idiom, the biggest stumbling block of learning a new language.
“Let’s see the other one,” Andra said, pointing at the straw men.
“Ummm…” Borus said.
“What? The slime is interesting, but it doesn’t justify paying you forty stones.”
“Well, those spheres were about four times bigger than I was expecting...”
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“Were you holding back earlier, with the cork?”
“Yeah, why?” Cal said.
“Eternus, mother of—” Borus raised a tightened fist and then sighed. “This is why we do prototypes.” He turned to face Andra. “I based my math on a flawed assumption. The explosive will be a bit…stronger than I thought.”
“Stronger isn’t bad. How much stronger?” Andra asked.
“You should probably command everyone to stand back.”
Andra watched him for a second, before sucking in a tremendous breath.
“Form up!” she shouted loud enough to reverberate across the entire field. The entire contents of the practice yard made a hasty formation, their spines straight, eyes forward.
“Against the wall!” she said, pointing to the other side of the yard, away from the straw targets. After a minute, she grunted in satisfaction.
“Calvin, the range is yours. Impress me.”
Damn, I hope these things are good.
Shaping.
4/11 Bent remaining.
A shimmering sphere manifested in between the targets before atomizing in every direction, and then, a fraction of a second later, the entire practice yard was as bright as the sun, radiating painful levels of heat from a hundred feet away.
Just as fast as the light came, it was gone, and Cal was able to open his eyes.
The straw men were gone, the posts holding them up were drastically reduced cinders, and most telling, the wall behind the straw men was glowing orange where the outer layer of stone had been melted until it was shiny.
“That was the same as Malkenrovian Mage’s Fire,” Andra said, her jaw slackening. “That was Mage’s Fire!”
“So it was,” Borus said with a grin. “So, about that forty-stone bill?”
Andra immediately regained her calm, narrowing her eyes at the little berry-shaped man. “How many more are you making?”
“A dozen different types, at least,” he said. “None quite as destructive as this one, but each will have its own effect. And they are reusable, of course.” He pointed at the steel vial in Cal’s hand. “As long as the boy has Bent, those vials can be used as components to create a variety of effects, endlessly.
“Each one of those vials’ interior is coated in glass and reinforced with steel, and should last years before the contents degrade. I also had this made for them.”
It was a small leather belt with dozens of small sleeves that fit the vials perfectly. Borus slipped the blue vial into the sleeve to prove it. The little tabs on the top of the vials were there to make sure it was easy to draw them.
Cal was still staring at the glassed practice yard. He glanced down at the vial in his hand.
Hooollyyy shiiit.
Oh yeah, I’m liking this. Let’s call it Fireball for no particular reason. We can call the slime one Grease…for no particular reason.
“I can’t argue with good work,” Andra said, reaching out and shaking Borus’s hand. “Forty stones; twenty now to cover your costs, and twenty on delivery.”
“More than fair, general,” Borus said with a grin, shoving the belt into Cal’s hands.
“Horas,” Andra said, pulling the Fireball out of Cal’s hand and giving it to her lieutenant. “Take this to the academy and ask them what their excuse is for Splitters not taking part in the war. It better be a good one.”
“Ma’am,” Horas said, taking the vial and running away at full speed.
“Now, let’s get that payment written up,” Andra said, she and the little berry man turning away.
“What about me?” Cal asked.
“Stay here! Lance will take care of you.”
“Who the hell is—”
“I’m Lance,” a man looming over Cal’s shoulder said. “I run the practice yard.” He glanced over his shoulder at the lined-up onlookers staring at Cal.
“Back to it!” he shouted, and the gawkers flinched, returning to their practice. The archers went out to a shed and dragged more stakes, hammers, and straw men out to the crispy side of the yard. Cal could feel one of the guys he’d slimed watching him with a fair amount of hostility, but that was fair.
Cal wrapped the belt around his waist and put the blue vial near where his hand rested.
“You must be Andra’s new pet wizard,” Lance said, eyeing him critically. “Still got your baby fat. Ever been in the army before?”
“No.”
“No, sir.”
“No, sir.”
“Alright, let’s give you the experience. Start running.”
“Huh?”
“NOW NOW NOW!” Lance lunged for him and Cal started running as he was unwittingly herded toward the group of jogging recruits, blending in with them for cover.
Lance let off him once he was jogging with the rest of the recruits. He could already feel their curious eyes on him, prickling from every direction. At least they weren’t overtly hostile.
“You the one that made the explosion, some kind of Malkenrovian mage?” one of them asked, a short, barrel-chested young man about Cal’s age.
“Yeah, but I’m a wizard.”
“You’re Malkenrovian, though,” another chimed in.
“Well, yeah.”
“What’s it like being a noble?” a short girl with close-cropped hair asked.
“A wha?” Cal asked, craning his neck to glance over at her in confusion.
“Wizards are all nobles, generally. At least, the ones who can do stuff like that. It’s hard to raise your Mind very high when you’ve gotta put food on the table.”
“That makes sense,” Cal said. “I’m more like a series of freak accidents than a noble. My mom’s a shepherd.” That can kill people with her bare hands. Cal was starting to find that a little suspicious.
The surrounding glances that he felt against his skin softened somewhat.
“What about your dad?” the barrel-chested boy asked.
“What dad?” Cal scoffed. There were plenty of decent male role models strewn around the village, but most of them were at arm’s length.
I can be your male role model.
Shut up, you.
“Sprints!” Lance shouted, and everyone except for Cal burst into a mad dash, removing his cover and allowing Lance to hit Cal across the back with a switch.
Agh, son of a bitch! I’m definitely not inviting this guy to my kingdom.
Definitely.
Over the course of the afternoon, Lance tried to break Cal, but being raised by Karen…he was more than prepared for grueling exercise. At the end of the day, Cal collapsed into a pile with the rest of them, drinking from wooden mugs with shaky hands.
“Form up!” Lance shouted before Cal was quite finished drinking. Cal jumped to his feet, struggling to find a place to stand. Finally, they were arranged in a nice five-by-five square, spines straight.
“Calvin, you’re out of line!”
“What?”
“As the lowest rank of officer, you may be everyone else’s bitch, but you still outrank the enlisted to either side of you. Come to the front, far right.”
“Well, you are a wizard,” a boy next to Cal said softly.
“Huh.” Calvin stepped out and placed himself at the front, rightmost position.
“Now, we are going to work on your salutes, with an emphasis on how to salute a superior, because for most of you, that’s going to be all you do, and for some of you in particular, it could be a matter of life and death.” His gaze settled on Cal for a moment.
Crap.
***Kala***
“How about this one?” Kala asked, turning her scribble over and showing it to Ella. Her translator didn’t need to interpret at this point, since they’d been over this so many times.
“A bit sharper on the top,” Ella said. “Sharper.” She made a triangle with her fingers. “Top.”
“Ah.” Kala erased the scribble and started changing it to Ella’s specifications.
As it turned out, Calvin Gadsint didn’t have a family crest, much to the surprise of the Diviner paid to find it for them. He said it wasn’t possible, that everyone had a family crest since hundreds of years ago, but he couldn’t explain why a drop of Calvin’s blood gave them nothing.
So Kala had stepped in and took the opportunity to design it for him. Since it was going on Ella, she got to have a say in it, and they put their heads together to create a work of art. Something simple, but elegant. They were currently sitting in the lobby of the skin-artist, a beautician who tattooed upper-class citizens.
They could have gone down to the slave dealer and gotten it stamped out real quick, but it would have most likely been ugly, with messy lines.
The slave dealer… Kala thought guiltily as Ella excitedly watched her draw over her shoulder.
“Are you…okay with this?” Kala asked. “Getting Cal’s house symbol on you? It means he owns you.”
Her translator dutifully interpreted her words into Genosian babble.
Ella blinked at her for a moment, then laughed and blurted out a torrent of words that made the translator rock back on his heels.
“What’d she say?”
“It was a little confusing, but it was something along the lines of, and I’m paraphrasing here: It doesn’t really bother me. It won’t change the fact that I practically own him already. We're bonded more deeply than that, and if he dies first, it’ll be a nice little reminder of my Chained Spirit. Otherwise, his Chained Spirit can have his mark on it. It’s a win-win.”
“Chained Spirit?” Kala asked. “Wait, practically own him already? What does that mean?” She bristled at the friendly girl’s grin. Did she seduce him with that gorgeous body? Kala found her eyes roaming Ella’s curves. I wish I could… Kala shook her head, glancing at the faint pink tether pointing in the direction of the castle, where Calvin was.
Stay on task, Kala thought to herself, putting her mental blinders on while her translator carried on her question. Do not be distracted by amazing boobs or the fact that Cal put on a lot of muscle since you last saw him.
“It’s something unique to my people. I will show you what I mean when we get back to the castle,” Ella said with a smile.
“Now. Where do you think the tattoo would make my Incha Huala lose the ability to speak?” she asked, pointing at her breastbone. “Here?”
“I don’t—”
She tugged her skirt down, revealing the very top of the juicy curves of her bottom. “Here? Ooor…” She slid the waistband of her skirt down until her entire lower stomach was revealed, dangerously close to exposing her womanhood. “Here?”
Kala’s heart was hammering in her ears, the skin of her face burning. “Uuuuhhh….”
Ella grinned. “That’s the one,” she said in Gadveran.
Trevor the translator spoke something harshly in Genosian, causing Ella to give a dissatisfied grunt before tugging her skirt back up.
“I’m sorry, princess. This savage has no sense of propriety.”
“No, it’s fine!” Kala said, a little louder than she intended.
By the gods, I feel like I need a drink of water, and maybe a bucket of it over my head.
“So, which one do you want?” Trevor said.
“Can you give me a minute to decide?” Kala asked, her voice a bit squeakier than normal.
Chapter 34: Make Me a Sammich
***Kala***
“So the Guya, when used properly,” Ella said, motioning with her hands, “establishes a very strong, very stable bond, with an Uenha, and a Poeor.”
Kala glanced up at the translator, who shrugged. It seemed like the words went over his head, too. She looked back down at the pink aura flickering out of her body, looking like a flame that pointed in the direction of Calvin. It was like the Genosian girl was a Calvin compass.
Ella wasn’t really looking at where she was going, either, but every turn brought them closer to Cal.
“The Poeor wants what is best for the Uenha, and the Uenha wants what the Poeor wants. It varies a bit between individuals. This is actually a better bond than both wanting the best for each other, or wanting what the other wants, as they can lead to cross-purposes or strange emotional paradoxes. We discovered this through much experimentation with the Guya in different amounts and mixtures.”
“So which one are you?” Kala asked, curious.
Ella blushed and glanced away. The tall Genosian’s embarrassment was a lot cuter than Kala had thought possible.
“The Uenha,” she muttered quietly.
“Is that bad?”
“No, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just…” She raised her hands in fists before relaxing them by her side again with a sigh. “...not the role I expected to take. I’ve always been the one with stronger Will.”
“Does that mean you have to do what he tells you?” Kala asked.
Slave magic existed in Gadvera, but it was, for the most part, crude pain- or suffocation-inducing enchantments that owners used to condition their property. Kala had never heard of anything as subtle as what Ella spoke of.
“Not even a little bit,” Ella said. “But I want to, as long as he wants me to.”
Ella glanced down at Kala in a way that reminded her of a hungry animal, sending a shiver of fear down her spine. Fear, and the tiniest tingle of lust.
“I want everything he wants.”
“Is that so?” Kala said, returning her attention to the crowded street in front of them. Let’s not overthink this. She’s probably talking about something else. Not me. That would be… Unbidden, the idea of being encapsulated between Ella’s soft body and Calvin’s lean muscle came to mind, and the tingle of lust redoubled.
For the briefest instant, she could imagine herself burying her face in between those soft mounds, reveling in the Genosian’s silky skin while Calvin got behind her, using her distraction to—
“Hey, look at that!” Kala shouted to distract herself from her unprincesslike thoughts. “Fried gardor bits!” She pointed at the food stall on the side of the road, where the vendor hawked his product to passersby. Gardor was a large land predator that was a bit gamey, but good chopped into smaller bits, heavily seasoned, and put on a stick.
“They smell good,” Ella said as they walked toward them. She stopped a few feet away and considered for a moment, seemingly consulting something.
“Let’s get some extra. Calvin is hungry,” Ella said, nodding.
She can tell that? Kala might have dismissed the Bond talk as the words of a savage so neck-deep in her ritual culture that she couldn’t see beyond it, but…
Seer has reached Level 5!
Seer Level 5: See the truth of the soul.
+1 Intuition.
Please choose an Ability from the list of compatible ones—
Kala took a deep breath and forced the messages away, like she’d been trained. As a princess, it had been drilled into her to put the utmost consideration into her Ability choices. Definitely not something she should do on the side of a busy street, walking with her crush’s beautiful…slave…thing?
Honestly, the dynamic of their relationship was causing her more than a little stress, and she had far too much on her mind to make a calm decision now, so she put it off for when she could get her uncle’s advice.
“Sounds good,” Kala said in response to Ella’s suggestion, and Trevor fished some small copper dust coins out of his bag and gave them to her. The smell of the heavily seasoned meat was starting to affect Kala now, and by the time she got to the front of the line with Ella, she was starving.
When she got to the front, the vendor took one look at Kala’s silk clothes, then his gaze flickered over to the towering Genosian barbarian, who smiled at him with her sharp teeth.
“What can I get for you, mistress?” he said, smiling and bowing deferentially. Kala was well known, but not that well known. A vendor on the street wouldn’t know her right away. The man was merely bowing to her clothes.
“A dozen skewers,” she said.
“Five dust, please.”
It was a bit more than she expected, but well within their price range. She dropped the copper pieces on the table, and the man swiftly handed the skewers to Ella, who began eating them immediately.
“Ahh.” The vendor paled as the person he’d assumed was a slave began eating her mistress’s food. Kala enjoyed his confusion for a moment, before she took pity on him.
“They’re for her,” she said with a practiced, gentle, princesslike nod.
“I see. Yes, that makes sense.” The vendor nodded, and returned to his business as they left.
“Pass me one of those,” Kala said once they were back in the street, and the Genosian handed one of the greasy sticks over without complaint, currently working her way through the meat at a prodigious rate with those sharp teeth.
“I’ll never get tired of how many spices you lowlanders use,” Ella said, smacking her lips between shearing off pieces of tough meat with ease. It was impressive, but it didn’t distract Kala from a question that had been burning in her mind for a while now.
“Have you told Calvin all this, about the Uenha and Poeor?”
“Not exactly, no,” Ella said, her expression a bit guarded.
“Why?”
“A few years before she died, my mother told me to never let a man know exactly how much sway he has over you. She always had my father picking up shells, so I figured she probably knew what she was doing.”
“Picking up shells?”
“Obeying her every whim?” Ella responded.
“You mean wrapped around her finger?”
“Why would she wrap him around her finger? How would that even work? He’d have to be tiny, and malleable, like some kind of plaything… Ooohhh.”
Kala giggled as the Genosian stared into the distance, her jaw slack as she pondered the idiom, the biggest stumbling block of learning a new language.
