Bright scatterings of gold and silver rays fall, dancing over the splaying trees. Their branches, thick with glistening snow as the muted sound of hooves, thunders upon the ground. The roar of the wind picking up, clashing with the sounds of harsh breathing and the thudding of beating hearts. Ahead of us, Sire’s white crow twists almost turning back on herself, as I shorten the reins, half-halting. Cyra’s haunches coiling as she steadies herself in the deeper snow.
My knees hugging the saddle, I urge her on, giving with the reins, feeling as her strides cover the ground. Other riders flitting between the trees, cutting in front and behind, hoping to take the lead. Dreaming, of the white crow leading them to victory, in finding Sire’s gift. Fierce calls of unwavering spirit echo through the air, as sparse screams of anguish break the silence. The sound of horses slipping and landing heavily on the ice and snow, carrying forward. Yet Cyra’s mane and tail flow caught by the breeze, as we twist and turn through the thickening woodland.
Riding out into a wide arc, those beside and behind near Sire’s crow, still flying up ahead of us. The others having to halt sharply, sinking deeply into snow, as the drifts hollow into the sunken earth.
Taking the reins in one hand, I run my fingertips over Cyra, feeling her chestnut coat, damp and darkening. The carrying of both Lorne and I, tiring for her, even as Lorne’s embrace remains close, allowing the both of us to ride more lightly. Darkness still writhes in the shadows, the silhouettes creating illusions. Yet as the trees begin to thin, those of us still hunting, gradually ride into the deeply undulating hills and valleys. The lakes, frozen by a thin layer of ice, look black beneath the striking moons.
Bringing Cyra back to a steady canter, we carefully skirt the edges of the lakes, our hazy reflection shimmering in their bleakness. Settling into a gentle rhythm, I look up, watching as Kovan’s mistress, Tessa, leads the hunt.
Suddenly the crow glides sharply aside, but as the hunters struggle to follow, Tessa and her gelding round the violent curve with a seamless elegance, as though already divining the crow’s thoughts. Urging Cyra on once more, her flowing strides soon close the distance between us, until we're riding shoulder to shoulder. Her gaze catching mine, an imperious smile greeting me, but hidden in the depths of her eyes is a boldness that has little to do with faith or hope.
Sire’s gift will be hers this Luna hunt. Lifting my chin, I subtly scent the air. An aroma of smoky earth lingering as I lower my head, looking away from the hunters. It’s a scent that I know well, the scent of ritual witchcraft. It seems that Tessa has sought unnatural means. I wonder if she is aware of the divine punishment of using such a ritual.
It has been a very long time, since the retribution of Sire has been felt by another. Such forgotten years often hide even the most brutal of memories, turning them into myth and legend.
Half-halting, and giving gently, I loosen the reins as Cyra tosses her head, prancing in the hopes of still leading the hunt, but patiently I soothe her, to the feeling of Lorne leaning forward, his breath brushing my cheek. “Are you admitting defeat to Kovan and his toy?”
Turning to meet him, he glimpses the boldness in my eyes. “I thought that you would know better by now, but that aside, we should leave.” Looking up, I watch as the two moons pale, the sky beginning to lighten. The early morning slowly rising. “The Luna ball, will be far more thrilling than the latter half of this Luna hunt.” Especially now that Tessa, has bestowed me with such a gift.
Lorne follows my gaze. “Kovan will never let you leave in such a way... unless...” His voice trails off knowingly, as I glance back at him.
“Another favour for a favour. How shameless you are.” Laughter flits across his lovely face as I too, smile.
“There are favours of all kinds, and Kovan finds the most deceitful of favours also the most pleasurable.” I feel the rising desire in his gaze, as his eyes leisurely rove over me.
Behind his veiled words, I sense that he means to mislead Kovan into thinking that he, too, has led me astray, just as Kovan, himself once did. Shortening the reins, I feel as Cyra arches her neck, bringing her hocks underneath her, as she canters sideways, her keenness clear as we ride back amidst the yearning hunters.
Kovan, as always, sensing my closeness, turns, riding over. His horse, Amiri, snorting. “You've given up already, little bird? Your spirit seems to be waning.”
“After being kept in a gilded cage, you so thoughtfully decided upon, my heart is nothing but bitter.” Bearly able to look into his fickle eyes and remember the illusionary warmth that graced his past gaze, I run a gentle hand down Cyra’s glistening neck, showing nothing but coldness.
Having come to know Lorne a little, the sudden silence between us, suggests that both he and Kovan are speaking in a way that I know, has to do with spoken favours.
Thoughts swirl as I wonder why Lorne has come to palace court, and his hidden reasoning’s. Lurking beneath his veiled words is a deep past. Though I know that he will never confide in me, just as I loathe to trust. He may know of my history, as do all who deign to join life in the palace court, but both he and I still have our own ill-favour.
The light tossing of Cyra’s head, snatching the reins as Lorne caress's my side, brings a shallow frown to my brow, as I meet Kovan’s overbearing gaze. “Little bird, if you wish to leave, I will allow it, but there will be a punishment later on.” His angelic features twist in delight. “As you seem to be enjoying courting my displeasure... I'll think of something truly special for you, after ruining my amusement.” Reaching out, his hand grasps my neck as he pulls me into him, Cyra brushing, Amiri. Lorne holding me as Kovan kisses me forcefully, his lips harsh and unyielding as I pull back. Yet he only tightens his grip upon my neck, as I bite his lip in the bitterness of my anguish. The sound of his enjoyment echoing, revulsion curls within my chest, just as I feel Lorne taking the reins. One hand still embracing me as the other suddenly tugs me away from Kovan. Torn from his grasp, Kovan struggles to find his balance, as Lorne draws me back into his chest, and I let him.
Settling back against him, he urges Cyra on into the growing light. The scent of Kovan’s blood following in our wake, as my lips sear with the remnants of his kiss.
On reaching the woodlands near to the mountains, I gather the reins from him, letting Cyra set the pace. The longer we ride, heavier the swirling mists become, a greyness hanging in the air. “Who do you think will emerge victorious from the Luna hunt? Though perhaps I shouldn’t ask, as you seem to already know. A better question would be, just what do you think awaits the victor, lovely Wren.” He breaks the silence with his mocking.
“You know as well as I, even with you idleness.” Following the narrow path, we pass the open gates, riding around and into the stables. “A sin I truly enjoy.” Sliding from Cyra’s back, Lorne lands lightly, as do I.
Drury, his eyes looking tired, comes running over, as he takes hold of Cyra’s reins. “Thank you, Drury. Wait a little while before you feed her, as she has worked tirelessly from yesterday.” He nods, smiling as he leads her away. My hand falling from her neck, but not before she lightly nuzzles my side.
Thunder rumbles, lightning arcing across the skies, as the roiling and laden clouds swell. Leaving the stables behind with a lingering glance, Lorne and I swiftly climb the familiar steps, passing through the wistful and forgotten courtyard. The door of the palace beckoning as the wind rises, buffeting all unwise enough to still venture into its grasp. Hearing the door close behind me, I look to the window as hailstones begin to beat the walls in their fury.
“Truly a tempestuous storm. I wonder, has one angered the gods or have you cursed Kovan with that sly wit of yours?” He shakes his head, as he lowers his hood, a light flush to his fair skin.
“If only it were so easy to curse him. As for the gods, there is nothing wrong with a little vengefulness.” My laugh is quiet, as we walk through the deserted wing of the palace.
“Revenge is a thrilling amusement, and one that often enjoys a bittersweet taste, beautiful Wren.” Hearing him express such a thought, only brings forth more curiosity about his past. “Speaking of amusement..., the second desire ...,” Brushing aside my waves, I feel his delicate caress stroking the length of my neck. “Take something irreplaceable from someone that should not belong to you.” A smile blooms, one that is welcome but edged with sharpness as I wonder whether Sage, the god of virtue, is beside me in holding true to my vow.
Falling into a natural silence that has come to feel almost intimate, we halt outside of my bed chamber. Yet rather than leaving, Lorne slides past me, as he lazily opens the door, walking inside with an air of belonging.
Nearing the fireplace, he uses the tinderbox to set the logs aflame, the shadows dancing across cheekbones so elegantly. Holding out a hand, he remains silent, but the depth in his eyes is clear.
Drawn, as the sayings of old, like a moth to a flame, I take his hand. His fingertips clasping mine, we come closely together. His ease sweeping the two us into a full turn. My arm coming to rest upon his shoulder, as we glide together to nature’s musicality of the far-reaching storm. Another full turn, and I find myself between him and the bed.
The air is filled with expectation as he swiftly lifts me to sit on his lap, resting on the edge of the bed. Our lips bearly a breath apart as he whispers. “Wren...” My name, a beautiful yearning. The light caress of his lips upon mine feeling as though an eternity has passed, since I have last felt such tenderness.
My hands rise, to stroke through his raven locks, as his embrace tightens and our kiss deepens. The flick of his tongue, keeping a slow sensual rhythm between us. The passion flaring, as we gradually uncover more of one another’s skin, our hands roving as our desires burn brighter. Leisurely laying back, his kisses descend, an enthralling feeling following in his wake. “Lorne...” My voice, brimming with need as I take in his lithe nakedness.
Watching me from above, his slender eyes glow with lust and a careless desire. Our touches holding us captive as his elegant fingertips glide along, raising my thigh as we give in to pleasure. Each roll of our hips sending an overwhelming longing and need. Clutching the nape of his neck with one hand, I tangle the other in his hair as we kiss. The torrent of passion, leading us to claw and scratch, drawing blood in our haze of pleasure as we hold one another nearer.
His lips slowly leave mine as he begins to kiss a torturous but tender path along my jaw and down to my neck. A shiver running through me, as his fangs graze my skin in temptation. He stills, waiting for me to recoil, but I simply pull him closer, bearly feeling a fleeting sharpness, as my blood trickles, his parting lips drinking in rapture.
Time loses all meaning as I begin to grow warm, revelling in the warmth of him. His grip on my hips tightens as he rolls us over, my parted knees settling on either side of his hips. A fresh spark of lust and feeling blooms, as we each toss our heads back, our rhythmic sway cresting in thrilling pleasure. Leaning close, my fangs aching, I pierce his skin, his blood flowing, as does mine. The both of us eventually growing still, as we lay back bathed in the pleasure of our glowing aftermath.
Thank you for reading ❤️
(Word count 2,103)