Author's Note: this story is set in the world of my ongoing series of fantasy novels, the MageLore and ElfLore books.
"Audra," she said. "My real name is Audra."
How strange to hear it spoken aloud after all this time, even in her own voice. A moment later, he echoed it, and she briefly closed her eyes as a shiver ran the length of her body.
"Audra," Karandis said. Thoughtfully, as if weighing it, testing it. He nodded, and the hint of a smile softened his lips. "Audra."
Strange, too, to
be
Audra again. To be flesh and blood. To see with her own eyes, hear with her own ears. To be alive ... to have smooth, pale skin instead of a shining truesteel blade ... to breathe and eat and drink ...
And
feel
.
She had, as an enchanted sword, been able to perceive her surroundings in a way that she could not describe even to herself. There had been sensation of a sort, yes ... the strong grip of his hands on her hilt ... the shearing of her edge through armor and bone ... the hot gush of blood ... she had experienced these things, relished them. She had been able to understand what was said, and communicate, and recognize those around her.
Now she was
here
. With them in person, in the flesh.
With him. With Karandis.
The others were there as well, Tavelorn and Rae and Menleh, and she was glad of their acquaintance, but she found it difficult to take notice of them. It was all but impossible to look away from Karandis. And his gaze never strayed from her ... as if no one else was in the room ... as if no one else existed in all the world.
His hand covered hers, that familiar, callused warrior's palm. His touch was so gentle. She knew he could crumble bricks in his fist, but his touch upon her was so, so gentle.
He was not, she supposed, what most elfmaids of the Emerin would consider conventionally handsome. Tavelorn, lean, slim and elegant, with his fair complexion, jet-black hair and glacial eyes, fit that description far better.
Karandis was broader through the shoulder, deeper through the chest and more powerfully muscled than any elf save perhaps the king. Where not traced white by scars old and new, his skin was bronzed by the sun. The sun had also lightened his already blond hair, which he wore short and indifferently combed. His features were strong and chiseled, his jaw perpetually set with determination. His ears, showing to great advantage, were swept and tapered in a way that left her more than a little breathless.
But it was his eyes, most of all, that stole her breath and replaced the beating of her heart with a hummingbird's flutter. They were the warm, clear blue of a summer sky, darkened with intensity as he looked into hers. There was no uncertainty in his eyes. No hesitation. Not a trace of doubt, not a single question. Only a calm and steady knowing, a desire so forthright and foregone that it transcended anticipation.
They would make love. Soon. Tonight. Without any need of the coy flirtations and flatteries of the Emerin's courtship games. It was as inevitable as moonrise, as unstoppable as the tide. They could not have resisted it, even if either of them had had any slightest wish to resist.
This unexpected chance had been given to them, given like a gift. They could not let it go to waste, could not let this singular opportunity pass them by.
The moment Karandis had stepped through the doors of the white tower with his greatsword strapped to his back, the overwhelming magic of the place had battered through the imperfect enchantment that held her. One moment, she had been only Maidenstar, six feet of honed truesteel with a hilt of ivory and amethyst, and in the next moment there had been a wrenching, spinning impact ... and she had struck the floor as Audra.
Her shock at the abrupt transformation had only been exceeded by theirs, as they gaped in astonishment at the sight of a woman where there had been a sword an instant before. At the sight of Audra, of a tall and slender elfmaid rising naked before them, her only adornment the truesteel and amethyst beads woven into the many long, thin braids of her ivory-colored hair.
They had bustled and fussed about her, Rae taking charge and having Menleh fashion her a gown, Tavelorn using his physician's knowledge to assure himself that she was what she appeared to be. They had shared a meal, and good wine, and conversation here in this mysterious magical tower.
And through it all, coursing like a current of flame, this same heart's desire passing between her and Karandis. This same wanting, this same surety.
The others noticed it, of course, and were Emerinian enough to take a friendly spiteful glee in dragging the evening on, delaying the moment when Audra and Karandis would at long last be alone. But there was little sport in it for them, Audra knew; she and Karandis were all but oblivious to anything but each other.
He held her hand, studied it, explored it with that gentleness no one else would have believed from a warrior like Karandis. He stroked her long, graceful fingers, rubbed the ball of his thumb along the delicate ridge of her knuckles, turned her hand over to trace with a fingertip the lines of her palm and the intricate path of veins in her wrist.
It was her hand, only her hand, an innocent enough touch, and yet Audra found the caress to be erotic beyond belief. Unbearably so. She laced her fingers through his, and held fast.
Karandis lifted his gaze to hers again.
Once, as a little girl, she had nearly drowned in a lake while on a family holiday. She'd begged her brother to take her swimming with his friends, and he had only agreed when their mother intervened. The older children had swum out farther and faster, headed for a raft, leaving her paddling along behind. She had tired, had gone under.
The water closing around her had been a pressure, surrounding her, robbing her of strength. Her lungs had demanded a breath of air, demanded it on pain of death.
She felt that way now, craved and needed Karandis the way she had craved and needed that breath of air.
Without a word to the others, he rose from the table and drew Audra with him, her hand still held firmly in his. She went on legs that barely supported her, on feet that she could not have confidently said touched the floor. Peripherally, vaguely, she was aware of Tavelorn, Rae and Menleh looking after them with varying degrees of amusement, understanding, and perhaps even envy.
And then they were alone, a door closed between them and the rest of the world.
In here, nothing else mattered. Not their journey, not his turbulent past and troubled memory, not her secrets about her family, not their enemies ... nothing.
All that mattered was that she was here with the man who loved her. Who had loved her since long before he ever saw her face or knew her true name ... loved her although he'd thought it was hopeless. In love with his
sword
? A sword with a woman's mind and spirit, yes, but still a thing of cold metal and sharp edges. Though he had often held her across his lap and rubbed her blade in slow, steady strokes with warmed oil and polishing clothes, a kind of lovemaking in itself, a sword was not something he could embrace, or kiss.
And oh, how desperately he had wished it could be otherwise. He had made no secret of it, not to her, not to the Maidenstar who shared his thoughts through the magical bond between weapon and wielder. The other women he'd taken to his bed had been mere substitutes, satisfying his physical need but leaving his soul empty, searching for and not finding the intimacy he had with her.
She had wished it too, but had at the same time been so afraid ... a shameful fear that someone like Karandis could never fully comprehend. As unfeeling truesteel, she was invulnerable, unbreakable, safe. Living elven, she could be hurt, could bleed, could die. It was as much cowardice as magic that had kept her locked in sword form for so long. She told herself it was part practicality as well – as a sword, a weapon, she was useful to him and not just one more person he had to protect – but her heart knew she was reaching for excuses.
Karandis turned to her. He touched her temple, trailed his fingers down over her cheek to the corner of her mouth, then followed the line of her jaw to her earlobe. His movements were unhurried and deliberate. His other hand came up, raised her chin. He inclined his head and brushed his lips against hers, not a full kiss but that light, tender brushing.
Audra closed her eyes. She was trembling. Only a little, a faint quiver, but trembling, it was true.
If she had let herself think about it, let herself wonder what it would be like with him, she might have thought their first encounter would be a thing of haste and urgency, a passion so long denied that it had to be consummated with quick fervor. She might have expected torn clothes and frantically seeking hands and eager, open mouths and bodies falling together in a writhing tangle. She would have welcomed that ... but this, this slow and sweet almost-kiss ... the tender touch on her earlobe ... this was better.
He breathed her name against her lips. "Audra."
She set her palms against his chest, not to hold him away, never that, but to feel the warm and solid reality of him. Here, the calm deliberation of him was belied by the strong and rapid drumming of his heart.
"Oh, Karandis," she sighed, and slid her hands up to his shoulders. He was trembling, too ... for all his strength, his undefeated battle prowess, he trembled at her touch.
His arms went around her and gently drew her close. Audra gasped, and it was the life-winning gasp of that drowning girl-child breaking the surface of an Emerinian lake so many years ago, a wonderful and inexpressible relief.
Her back arched and her head fell back, exposing her smooth throat. The beads in her braids clicked and rattled as her hair spilled over his arm.
