Lady Tarabell Arkson was pretty. She was sitting behind a lower wall. The upper wall had been dragged aside and into a pocket. One of her arms was resting on the top edge of the lower wall.
Her layered, long sleeves were hanging out and over, displaying the floral motifs on the outer and inner layers. Her blonde hair was in a pair of braids looped on each side of her face with ribbons and copper wires weaved in. Her shiny brown eyes were watching Prince Vansoth's fingers as they moved a wooden, coin-like object across a board on a table. Then, everyone clapped their hands because he had just won the game.
Having a pretty woman watch him was nice, but Vansoth didn't think the right woman was looking at him.
Countess Arkson was eager to have a turn. The table and board was moved close to the women's side. She pulled away all the walls that blocked her. Then she started a game with Vansoth, and she didn't go easy on him. More applause erupted in the end. Things were moving along nicely, but Vansoth wasn't satisfied. He was trying not to glower.
His fingernails lightly scratching the edge of the tabletop, Vansoth asked the Count, "Wouldn't your newest daughter fancy a game?" That put an annoyed huffiness in Lady Tarabell's face. It really didn't make her any more attractive.
Clapping his hands together and then lacing his fingers, the Count moved his head to one side and gave a wobbly smile. "I don't know, Your Highness. She's bashful. I've been told that she hardly ever speaks to her new mother and sister."
Vansoth wasn't too upset, only mildly annoyed. An upper class woman had every right to hide herself from the men. That fact didn't stop him from snorting and rolling his dark eyes to the ceiling. "Is there any way the other women could convince her?"
Rubbing his fingertips against his scalp, Count Arkson meekly said, "I'm not certain." His brown hair shifted and slid around his shoulders as he turned to give his wife a strained look. "Wife? Could you imagine a method?"
The Countess didn't get an opportunity to reply, because her daughter spoke up. Lady Tarabell pulled her sleeves back into the women's side as she said, "I have an idea! Wait a moment!" Her loops of hair jumped and recoiled as she hurried out of everyone's view.
The remaining people were polite, but quiet and tense, as they waited to see if the newest daughter in the family could be coaxed out of whatever corner she was likely kneeling in.
And a few moments went on ...
Rapid little footsteps, like a well beaten drum!
A child's cry!
Lady Tarabell's sleeves were swaying with her body as she ran into everyone's view. She was holding a swaddled baby girl (a boy would have been bigger, due to its little centaur body). The poor little darling's face was very pink, and she was expressing her rage with crazed wailing.
More footsteps!
A new woman!
Unkempt, messy curls of a carrot-like color, whirling in the air as a dainty creature zoomed towards Lady Tarabell. There was an olive colored gown on her, but it was simple. Her sleeves fluttered around, but there didn't seemed to be any layers to them, meaning there seemed to be only one set. Vansoth was able to see her feet from under her gown's flapping hem. Even though the weather was warm, this woman was wearing stockings and little shoes.
And this little redhead tackled her blonde sister, screaming, demanding the child's return.
All the men, even the prince, gasped and retreated, their hooves taking them away from the madness. The Countess charged to the scene, her voice echoing. "What were you thinking?!"
All three women tangled, and then, when it was all over, Lady Lahri was kneeling on the floor with her sad baby. Her neckline had flaps in it, with buttons, and the flaps were open to reveal Lahri's large and swollen bosom. She murmured to the girl, putting her pink face up to a nipple.
The furious Countess had Tarabell by one of her braids. She tugged the whining young woman off to a place where the men couldn't see or hear them.
The Count slapped his palm to one side of his face, and he groaned as he bent over.
Lady Lahri was able to soothe baby Meia into a more easygoing state, stroking the child's soft little head and smiling down at her with her pretty yet bare lips. Her green eyes were loving and gentle. Her heart shaped face was fair. Her hands were clean and affectionate.
Count Arkson was the first man to speak, and he was very gentle about it. "Lahri? Is the child well?"
Lahri's eyes shot up as she gasped. It was as if she had forgotten that she wasn't alone with her baby. Carefully cradling Meia's body and head, she hopped up to her feet and ran away.
What a strange, comely woman!
Perhaps he'd sing for her?
***
It was once an independent nation.
Not anymore.
It was surrounded by a tall walls of thick stone with centaur and dwarf guards checking everyone who tried to enter or leave, especially those who wanted to leave ... and especially those who wanted to leave with a carriage or even suspicious looking bags.
Someone was outside the largest gate on an early morning. It was a human riding a centaur.
A human male.
He showed the guards a small badge and a scroll of paperwork. Then he was allowed inside the perimeter. The centaur carried the man off through a farming community, then a to a city, and then to a small building that wasn't very interesting. Inside that building, where there was a dirt floor, the centaur took the human man to a tall desk, where another centaur was writing out a document.
The human said to the writing centaur with a gruff voice, "Something interesting has happened in Raobet."
A conversation went on. Then, the human was given money.
Polite goodbyes. It was done. The centaur he rode on was tired. So, the human was put on a different centaur, one who had just woken up and wanted to earn an extra coin.
The human was taken through the city again, off to a middle class residential area. The human gave the centaur some money, dismounted, and entered a small townhouse.
Almost literally ten minutes later, a large carriage arrived.
The human male expected it.
A group of dwarves entered his home. They called the human's wife to display all of her small children. One of the dwarves had a bundle of scrolls. He was a census taker. He was making certain that everything matched his records. Another dwarf was a woman, a wet nurse.
The human and his wife, at that point, had one son of twelve years, a daughter of four years, and a set of girl twins that were almost a year old.
The wet nurse ended up taking the two twins. Then, the human family was left alone.
Nobody had protested. This was completely normal.
***
It was another morning in Count Arkson's castle, and Lahri didn't know what to think of her situation.
The Countess and her blood daughter were always talking about how the prince would certainly woo a bride from this estate. He was clearly enjoying his stay.
According to the other women, the prince was handsome in a hardy, fierce way. There were also rumors going around about his singing voice. Music had been played during the visit many times, but no matter how much anyone pleaded, the prince wouldn't sing.
Lahri wasn't interested, though. She was worried about Meia. Whenever she asked herself how the child would grow in this alien world she couldn't think of an adequate answer. Everything was so strange.
But at least she wasn't back in Raobet.
The other women left Lahri alone so they could have their fun with the men. Lahri entertained herself by singing to little Meia. When she heard music, she thought she could follow the notes with her voice. Lutes, flutes, drums, and a bagpipe. It was all nice to hear. Sometimes, she'd close her eyes, stop singing, and listen, swaying back and forth on the cushion she knelt on.
Men were singing. Their voices were like happy chants. There were pounding patterns, the sounds of hooves dancing in earth. It was all very nice. Lahri didn't mind thinking that way. She wasn't quite at that level of stubbornness.
The singing stopped. The music stopped. So sudden! Lahri pursed her lips and reached down to stroke Meia's face. She was in a little box of a bed on the floor. She couldn't say that her new family was cruel to her baby. Meia had everything she needed.
Great, loud, bass, and strong, there was a voice, a voice that sang with no instruments to accompany it.
Lahri's chest was filled with a rousing sensation. Her fingers spread over her heart and her lips parted. It felt as though the voice was echoing throughout her form. It was triumphant yet also relaxing.
And for once, she wasn't really thinking of the baby. She was thinking of how perfect the voice was. She rose and let her leather and stocking clad feet take her closer and closer to the grand voice. Her fingers pulled wall after wall away the voice grew clearer, putting a rush in her brain.
She saw the other women in the family, but she didn't think about them, barely even considered them. She was thinking of the wonderful song. It flooded her thoughts and evaporated her wit.
Darkness ... her eyes shut, blocking all visual distractions. Lahri went to her knees as if she was exhausted. Her palms caressed the straw mats on the floor. Her toes stretched out in her shoes. Her breasts ached a little more than usual. Her nipples tingled. A shiver was in her lower belly ... and even lower than that.
More ... and more ... the tone rose ... and it was all around her!
Why ... was her left hand moving away from herself?
The voice was gone!
Quiet.
Lahri's eyelids fluttered open.
The Countess and Lady Tarabell were both looking at her with big eyes, covering their mouths with their sleeves. What in the world was so surprising to them? Lahri looked to her left.
The walls in this area were open.
Her sleeve ... was being held across the invisible line between the women's and men's quarters. Lahri's confused eyes followed the sleeve's line to the point where it was being held ...
By a man's dark hand ...
The end was being pressed up to his bowing head, right at his lips.
A kiss on a woman's sleeve.
Long black hair, with occasional little braids that had gold wires and thin strings of pearls.
Lahri yanked her sleeve out of his grasp. It snapped and flopped back to her body as she pulled her arm back to herself. The centaur straightened up. Goodness, he was a hefty creature! He looked like he could pull the heaviest supply wagon in the world.
He looked down at her with eyes so dark that Lahri wondered if he even had irises. Then he said to her with his deliciously deep voice, "I hope you enjoyed my song, My Lady."
Wait. He was the one who sang so perfectly?
