They hiked up to a high hill, and Jean carefully explained once again how to release the bird and send it out to hunt. She was rather nervous, but again her ability to whisper made everything very simple. She released the hawk and watched it soar up high into the sky.

“You say you’ve never gone hawk hunting before?”

“No, my Lord.”

“I’ve told you before. Call me Jean, please.”

“We’re not alone. Isn’t that improper?”

“So? We’re speaking to each other, not to them. Why should anyone else care what we call each other- my love?” he mused, while releasing his own bird.

“As you wish… beloved.” She smiled at him.

“You command the animal like an expert. Perhaps I shall ask you to teach me some of those slayer secrets after all… as a personal request.”

She laughed. “I’ll teach you all of them if you like. You need only foreswear all your land and titles to become my apprentice.”

“I’ll consider the matter. Are you a very harsh mistress?”

Vero felt arms slide around her waist.

“Harsh, but fair.”

A bird suddenly dived from its overwatch and snatched up a fat rabbit. It was Vero’s red hawk.

“Impressively done,” he whispered in her ear.

“The animal did the work; I merely gave it some simple instruction.”

“You’re too humble, Vero.”

“I simply prefer to work more directly, with my own hands.”

“I see.” He kissed her neck. “Perhaps I should find us more exciting sport then.”

 

They returned to Greenvale Hall in high spirits. Rabbit meat was peasants fare, but Jean ordered the hares they caught to be skinned and roasted for supper anyway.

“You don’t mind such rustic cuisine, I hope.” Jean mentioned absent mindedly as he cut portions for each of them.

“Not at all. I was always taught it wasn’t right to kill an animal unless you intended to eat it. And I’ve always had a taste for conies.” Vero attempted to imitate the lackadaisical Umbrian accent. Not very successfully, but that was a part of the jape.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

He loaded their plates and she sat closer to him. He put an arm around her waist. They spoke casually while they ate, the topics were all unimportant as they were principally interested in one another. Occasionally someone would interrupt them on their own business, but Jean dismissed them with all the speed court manners allowed him.

She was tempted by the pitcher of wine, but only drank in moderation. She realized that she was coming near to making a decision, and the responsibility of the act made her wish for the escape of alcohol. She kept her sobriety with difficulty. When they had eaten and the hour began to grow late, Vero made her choice at last.

She leaned to close to Jean to whisper in his ear. “Will you make love to me tonight? Really make love to me, I mean.”

Jean was surprised only for a moment. “If that’s what you wish. I do understand, completely... if you still need more time. Are you certain this is what you want?”

She nodded.

 

Vero went to the master bedroom with Antoinette. The private rooms of the Lord of Greenvale were not so grand as those of some halls they had visited before, although they were still much richer than any accommodation Vero had ever slept in before she met Jean.

Antoinette took off Vero’s dress and jewels to put them away. Then she began to brush the knots Vero had acquired out of her hair. The ruby tresses now came down almost as far as her shoulders. She hated the way it covered her face, and loved the way Jean ran his fingers through the long strands. So, it went uncut and slowly grew longer.

Antoinette kissed her good-night, as she always did, and left. Vero lay on top of the bed over the blankets. Everything was quiet. The host had dismissed the company, and now the revelers had either lain down to sleep, or gone elsewhere to seek still further revels. She used her hands to obscure her sex. Then she closed her eyes.

She opened them again when she heard the door. Jean entered without his squire. His gaze drifted over her slowly and Vero suddenly had a bizarre fantasy that she was being crawled over by ten thousand spiders, and that she dare not move, lest they sting her with their venomous bites.

Jean removed his own clothes.

He was very beautiful, terribly so. His manners were so well disciplined that it was very easy for her to forget that a prince’s first duty was as a soldier. His body was a tapestry of scars, lines of musculature, and the ink from the discrete tattoos he wore over his heart and right arm. Slayers were forbidden to pierce their bodies or to mark them with permanent ink, but in the regions near the White Sea where she was born, it was common for men to prove their courage that way. It made the practice tremendously attractive to her.

She recognized the tattooed inscriptions as prayers in Liturgical to the God of Battles. The one over his chest called for protection, the one down his arm called for strength.

There was another tattoo down his right leg below the knee, a prayer for swiftness.

He was already erect and looked very large to her- though not the largest she had seen. Once, in the Imperium with her master, she had seen a senator give a parade of his personal pleasure slaves and saw both male and female anatomies unnaturally enormous in their proportions. The effect on her then had been more disturbing than arousing, but she liked what she saw before her now.

Jean climbed onto the bed. She tried to turn over for him, but he stopped her.

“I prefer to see your eyes,” he informed her.

Vero avoided looking at his face. If she became lost in his gaze there was no telling when she might find her way free again.

He pulled away her hands. She used them to trace the marks in ink on his chest with her fingers.

She felt her heart pounding against her own chest. Following an impulse, she pressed her ear to her chest. Could she hear his heart beating?

Yes, there it was. Steady heavy beats. Their pace was elevated, though not nearly so high as her own.

Familiar fingers pressed into her the way she liked for a time, then withdrew. The head of his phallus brushed the lips of her sex and she could not bear to watch more.

She lay on her back and looked past him towards the ceiling, trying to imagine the night sky which lay beyond the stonework.

He was pushing against her gently and…

Vero realized that Jean had found her eyes.

Now she was locked in his gaze and there would be no escape. His eyes were a steel grey sea that threatened to drown her. Would her mantras protect her if he tried to listen to her thoughts?

His movements were soft, his touch was tender. There was no pain and she could no longer remember why she had been afraid.

“Are you alright?”

Vero said nothing, but nodded with vigor.

He spent some time probing her with careful and deliberate precision while she waited breathlessly. He paid careful attention to Luna’s pearl while he worked, and Vero believed that she may go mad. Then his manhood touched her exactly as she wished and Jean seemed to know at once. His pace increased and she soon found herself writhing under him in response to his movements.

There truly was nothing to fear.

The relief came over her in a wave so intense that she contracted around him a moment, as a little shiver of pleasure was sent up her spine to her brain.

“Already?”

She twisted her legs around him so he could not leave her. “Don’t stop.”

Jean’s movements had not slackened, but he bent forward to kiss her. Their lips met and tongues caressed a moment – they broke away a moment – then Vero followed his lips as they retreated to kiss them again.

She drew his body into her with her legs, urging him on. His thrusts became stronger still as restraint was put aside. She wanted to scream, but feared to wake the sleeping castle. She bit her knuckle with only a small moan.

“I’m nearly finished.” He told her in a whisper.

Vero felt a second climax approaching her, stronger than the first, stronger than any she had ever felt. She realized he meant to pull out of her, and she locked her legs around him more tightly.

“Don’t go. I know spells and things. I won’t become pregnant, I swear.” She assured him breathlessly.

He looked at her and she was not sure if he believed her or not. A moment later it was irrelevant.

Vero felt her whole body contort in a paroxysm of white-hot pleasure.

When she tightened around him again, Jean’s movements slowed to a halt. They kissed in the quiet time after.

Vero separated her legs and Jean removed himself from her. They climbed under the covers and into one another’s embrace.

“I wasn’t lying to you,” she said, after a space.

“Hmm?” He sounded as though she had only just brought him back from the edge of sleep.

“About the spells I know- Slayer take herbals concoctions in a kind of tea every week. It tastes foul, but it keeps out humors balanced to let us exert ourselves at our physical peak. In women, it also acts as a contraceptive.”

“Oh? That’s a curious side effect.” He said with a dreamy smile.

“Not at all. It takes tremendous azoth to keep a woman’s womb fertile. A slayer must balance all their humors only for the hunt- preparing the body for an already unwanted pregnancy is a waste of energy.”

“Do male and female slayers take the same concoctions, or are women common enough in your order to have your own formulae?”

“Every individual’s body is different. Each slayer must learn their own humors to find the right mixture, but the same general principles can be applied to all. To answer your other question- it’s not common, but other women have been slayers before. Aaja the huntress was one of the original century of slayers which formed our order- when Kishar the first among equals called the ninety-nine greatest warriors to hunt the dragon which had destroyed his city. Anyone may join us if they can prove their worth.”

He stretched, then closed his eyes and appeared to be going back to sleep again. “Well, a tremendous relief to me it is. I should hate to think I had hired an unlicensed journeyman.”

She nestled against him and kissed his chest many times. “I love you very much,” she said between kisses. “I think I love you as much as anyone I have ever known.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, then caressed her cheek. “No one has ever made me feel as you do.”

Vero still did not believe him when he said these things, but that could not change the fact that she wished to hear them. “Tell me more.”

He began to rub her back and slowly she felt herself growing drowsy. “You’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met. You’re beautiful, clever, brave… devious… dangerous…”

And Vero was asleep.

 

Vero much preferred waking up in someone else’s arms to waking up alone. She did not mind so much when she was out of doors and surrounded by all of nature, but sleeping alone enclosed in man-made walls left her uneasy. She cuddled nearer to Jean, gently waking him as she did so.

“Good morning.”

She kissed him by way of reply.

“How do you feel?”

“Very fine indeed. Will you make love to me again?”

He yawned and stretched himself with graceful languid movements. “Whenever you wish.”

Vero began to stroke him. He was soft, but began to respond quickly.

“I didn’t know you meant this moment.”

“I’m sorry. I suppose I’m becoming a terrible slattern. No one has ever… been with me… as we were last night. I want it again, but… perhaps it is too soon.” She ceased to caress him, but he was already hard again.

He rolled over on top of her with laughter and kisses. “Oh, no. There’ll be no more of that nonsense. From now on, if you insisting on teasing me, you’ll take the length for it.”

Vero did not object to the arrangement.