THE WOMAN IN THE GARDEN by AidenClover

Feature Writer: AidenClover

Feature Title: THE WOMAN IN THE GARDEN

Published: 16.10.2025

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: A lesbian vampire romance in The Elder Scrolls universe

Author’s Notes: WARNING: The following work contains graphic violence, strong language, explicit sexual content, emotional manipulation, references to sexual violence and assault, and heaping servings of blood and gore. This is a work of fiction, set in The Elder Scrolls^® universe created by Bethesda Softworks. The elements contained herein are not based on any current or historical people, places, or events. All rights pertaining to The Elder Scrolls^® series are reserved by Bethesda Softworks and ZeniMax Media Inc. Aside from named elements borrowed from this setting, the following is an original work by the author.

The Woman in the Garden

Prologue.

The night was cool and gray. The moons shone their light on the mountain forests, guiding her away from the sleeping gardens. She had taken her sword, and the necklace that had been a gift from her mother, a red ruby on a golden chain. She hadn’t taken any gold; she wouldn’t be needing it where she was going.

Up here the paths were twisting and treacherous by night. The starry Hammerfell sky dominated the south, encompassing the manse and her gardens far behind, and to the north loomed the crags and cliffs, a great wall of impenetrable shadow. Little fires burned in sconces on the walls of the place she had called home, and now she ventured far from their light, into that imposing darkness where naught that was human could survive. But she would, for soon she would be more than any man or mer.

But for now, she was only human, and the unwary human might end up food for roaming packs of welwa. She kept a hand on her sword, watchful for any sign of the furry little beasts, or whatever else lurked in the dark. The night was loud with its typical revelry of owls and insects, a song that filled her with nostalgia for warm summer evenings and nights by the fireside. Torchbugs dotted the spaces beneath the trees, and as their leafy awnings closed in overhead to block out the firmament, she found herself under a new nighttime sky filled with yellow-green stars that faded in and out of existence.

She went out to where the trees ended in a brief clearing, just before the riverbank, and followed the sound of its slowly-flowing waters. Upstream towards the falls she went, back into the wood, and further up the sloping ground, feeling for roots with her sword as she went. She had taken no torch. Not much longer now and she wouldn’t need one.

The cave’s mouth was inconspicuous even by daylight, and with only the moons to guide her, she had to look long and hard for the shadow that was not cast by an overhang of rock in the great curtain wall. She found the opening; it was wide but low, and she had to duck on her way inside. There was no sound but that of her breath, and nothing to see but the absolute black. The silence continued unbroken for seconds, and minutes, the world outside as if it had never existed, and she feared she had been deceived, sent out here in search of something that would never be granted.

“Are you ready?” It was a woman’s voice, supple like velvet, and vivid as it had been when she heard it in the dreams. It was only then that she smelled the scents that filled the cave, the wet musk of elk hide, the iron of blood.

“Yes,” she answered, calm where others might have been terrified.

“Good. We look forward to you gaining your new sight. We have made lovely preparations here. A shrine, all for this.” The voice ebbed as it went, tone and pitch shifting like the crevices in the walls, and seeming to echo off them like this were some massive cavern. “Can you imagine it?”

“Yes,” she said once more. She pictured an elk’s skull, stripped of flesh, its antlers stretching like long fingers over a pool of blood.

“What a blessing it would be, to see through your eyes. Mortal minds are a wonderful thing.”

“I know what I will lose. I am not afraid.”

“Excellent. Come closer, dear. Let us see you.”

She obeyed the voices, laying her sword against the wall, and stepped forward. The ceiling was higher in here than at the cave’s entrance. The air of the cave made her skin tingle as she straightened up, but she knew she would not be cold for longer.

The voices remained silent, and she heard no sound of approach, but soon hands were on her, cold as the grave. The lips that touched hers were warm, however, and she bent under their embrace, closing her eyes even though it made no difference. She was blind either way. When the kiss ended, she leaned her head back. The bite felt like two thorns piercing her neck, pain and ecstasy dripping from them and into her. Hands were all over her, caressing her, claiming her, welcoming her into the dark. She felt them lead her forward, and her foot entered a warm puddle in the dirt. The puddle went deeper, and soon it was up to her knees, and the hands lowered her onto her back. She took one last breath before she sank beneath the surface. She tasted the blood, felt it flowing through the openings in her neck to meld with her own. She floated in the pool, felt nothing of the bottom.

Something surged from below, something that couldn’t be touched, but felt all the same, and her eyes opened stinging. A reaction seized her, an impulse, a need to survive. This wasn’t right. She fought to right herself, but the hands held tight, pulling her deeper down into the black depths. Blood raced into her mouth, drowning her scream.

“Relax, dear,” said the voice. “You will never need to breathe again.”

Chapter I. “Daybreak”

Dragontail Mountains, circa 2E 490.

Shaniera was already awake when the light of the quiet Hearthfire morning spilled through the rose-tinted glass of her window. The first thing she did was peer out over the garden below. The sight of Leanne’s scarf on the clothesline brought both relief and anxious excitement as she hopped from the sill to dress. The plan had been laid a week ago, and confirmed several times since, but it was that signal that she waited for. Each day, something had come up, and Leanne would have been busy with chores, or Shaniera with studies or dancing practice, but today seemed like the day. She slipped into a simple dress of fine silks that seemed to dance as she moved, soft pinks and reds trimmed with shimmering bronze, the colors remembrances of old Yokuda. She stood before the tall silver mirror, smoothing out the fabric with tremulous hands, then picked up a hairbrush and wrought her thick curls into a black crown around her head. One last look in the mirror, and then she slipped from her room swift as the morning sun.

Servants were already padding around the little palace as Shaniera bounded down the stairs. So long as I avoid Renoa and mother, I should make it to our spot just fine. She came close to barreling straight into Gro’shuba, a tall, grey-green boulder of a woman from Orsimer. The orc hissed contempt through her tusks as she regained control of the huge bucket of water in her arms. Shaniera hurried an apology to her, and the next moment found herself hurrying a greeting to her uncle Barentho.

“Shaniera! Slow your pace, or you’re liable to crash.” He had a habit of speaking just to say something, rather than having something to say. When he wasn’t speaking, he was stroking his beard, pretending to be thoughtful.

“Sorry, Uncle Bary!” She waved at him as she continued down the hall, around the corner into the north foyer. The back doors were a shiny cherry wood, carved with shapes of leaping tigers. The curved gold handle was nearly in her grasp before it swung away. Toren stood in the doorway, scratching at the side of his red-brown beard. He blinked at her, as if he didn’t entirely see who she was, but recovered himself quickly enough. “Beautiful morning, Shaniera,” he said. “Have you seen Renoa?” There was an unease to his baggy eyes.

Shani paused. If anything, she had expected the man to ask about his daughter, not her cousin. “She’s probably out in the garden, or picking wildflowers on the north trail. Why? Is something the matter?”

The Breton rubbed his eyes and yawned, shaking his head. “No, nothing’s the matter. Just, if you do happen to see her, tell her that your mother wishes to speak with her.” He started past her, then paused. “Oh, and if you see Leanne, could you please caution her against her wandering? I’ve been seeing a number of small animals dead on those trails, and I fear the mountain wolves, or packs of welwa, and gods know what else may lurk out there.” Don’t worry, I know where your daughter is, Shani thought. And I will see her, soon. Heat flushed her cheeks, but mercifully Toren had already walked beyond the foyer.

The cool morning air tickled her beneath the light flowy gown, but she knew it would warm soon–even in the mountains, Hammerfell was a warm place, and the sun shone ever brighter here. Autumn was taking hold, but the last of summer’s air still blew through the garden, a vast expanse of vegetation of all different colors and sizes. There were fruit trees bearing pomegranates, pears, bananas, apples, coconuts, tangerines, and other fruits that Shani couldn’t recall the names of, and row after row of bushes with flowers that didn’t grow anywhere else for miles around. Leanne knew every fruit that grew here; Shani was sure she probably knew every tree, right down to the number of worms under their roots. If the servant girl could help it, she was tending to the gardens that sustained the family here at the manse. Shani made her way through a field of fading green, steadily overtaken by gold and scarlet, and boldened by the crimson glare of the sun bleeding over the horizon. She passed a few rows of trestles reserved for watermelons in the summer, turned over to vines a couple of months ago that were growing pumpkins now instead. Some were still green, but there were many fat orange ones ripe for the scythe, and the biggest of them all had grown gargantuan, too wide for any one person to carry. Some would soon be diced, ground up, and roasted, and Shani could already taste the spice. She looked forward to a cup of pumpkin tea.

Her nervous steps slowed forcefully as a thought seized her. She shouldn’t rush so much. Why was she, anyways, when she and Leanne had already spent so much time together? She knew it was because their relationship was accelerating into something different, after having grown slowly there for years, filled with furtive glances and pushed on by shy experimentation. Now the experiments were bolder, more adventurous and personal, and every one of their arranged private meetings had become less of an escape and more of an event in themselves–preceded by anticipation, a need to prepare.

I’m a princess, she thought. Soon I will be nineteen years old. I am ready for anything. In truth, she wasn’t technically a princess, not yet at least. The lands of their estate were vast, and the surrounding villages were sworn to them, much in the style of the lords of chivalric High Rock to the north, but their manse was no castle, and they didn’t rule a kingdom. It was nothing more than a nickname that had stuck from when she and Leanne used to play pretend.

A trail led from the garden proper into the forest beyond. At its edge, she spotted a sleeping hare, sprawled on the dirt at the base of an oak. Its brown fur blended with the soil, hiding it well, but she just barely spotted the outline of its body–and the red stains on its neck and leg. Shaniera gasped, and knelt down beside it, her meeting momentarily forgotten. The poor creature’s throat had been ripped out. A thin pink cord trailed from the wound, but there was hardly any blood to be seen…

There was a high-pitched shout from behind her. She jumped up, turning on weak legs. It was only her little cousins, climbing atop the massive pumpkin. She allowed herself an uneasy laugh. Those boys were inseparable, and their energy was never scant. The garden was surrounded by low walls of unmortared stone, enough to keep out most scurrying pests, but predators might have an easier time of getting over them, and the boys had been warned plenty of times not to linger by the walls. The garden was huge, giving hundreds of feet in whichever direction for them to play, so they rarely ever got the urge to disobey the warning. Shaniera gathered herself and set off down the trail.

The walk on the trail normally took a peaceful ten minutes, but the first half went by in just two at Shani’s pace. By then, she had calmed down, and soon the meeting ahead was all that concerned her. She took in a breath of the warm autumn air, letting it fill her and cool her nerves. Life was everywhere here, you could taste it in the air, and it made you want more. Shortly after the trail banked left, she took off into the woods, where no path marked the way to the place she and Leanne had discovered in their youth. She pushed through low branches and cracked sticks in her path, until the wood parted and there was the clearing, and the river, and Leanne.

The Breton wore a blue gown, rough and simple. She was sitting on the big rock with the flat top, weaving a tangle of flowers together. A crown of persa flowers and mountain tails was already on her head, the red petals bringing out the auburn of her hair. It flowed down to the small of her back, perfectly undisturbed by her movements. There was always an air of uncertainty around her, so to see her so calm was a rare thing. Shani stood and watched her, until her heart began to pound again, and she went out into the clearing. The crackling of the leaves under her heel drew Leanne’s attention.

“There you are,” she said. Her smile was always warm in that round and friendly face.

“Here I am,” Shani said. “Have you made me a gift?”

Leanne giggled. “Yes, it’s almost done. I thought we should have some crowns, if we are the queens of this realm.” By that, she meant the small swathe of land they were in. By her feet was a basket with bread and cheese wrapped in a towel, and a set of beautiful horse-hair brushes and silver combs. Her hair did not look brushed: it hung in mats and tangles over her shoulders. She must have gotten distracted by the idea of flower crowns. Shani picked up a brush and sat behind Leanne.

“I thought I was supposed to brush your hair today,” Leanne said as Shani lifted the crown of flowers from her head.

“You were, but I did it myself. Now I can do yours.” Gently, she brushed out the tangles until the red-brown hair flowed smooth as silk in her fingers. She told Leanne once that she was far too beautiful to be a servant, and the fact that the most beautiful woman in the world was her servant must have been a generous gift from some god. Leanne had laughed then, but it wasn’t her usual laugh; it was bittered, cracked by some invisible thorn that was wedged in deep. To the praise, she had said ‘there are a thousand thousand girls and boys in Tamriel who are more beautiful than I am, servant or princess or otherwise’. Shani threatened that she could have her whipped for lying, and Leanne said she was telling the truth, as far as she knew it. ‘Then I’ll whip you myself until you believe me,’ Shani had said. ‘I’d love to see you try,’ Leanne said, smirking with all her mirth restored. ‘Maybe it will be me who teaches the lesson, princess.’

Shani blushed hard as she thought back on those moments. Leanne was a woman of twenty, older than her, but her lesser by oath. Supposedly, Shaniera’s father had saved her father’s life long ago, and by extent the life of his daughter. Toren and Leanne had already been taken from High Rock by a platoon of Redguard soldiers in some petty war years ago, and were bound to be slaves in Hammerfell, but something caused Shani’s father to intervene on Toren’s behalf. Whatever it was that he did to save them, and whatever the reason, Toren was bound by honor to pledge his life in servitude, and he offered his daughter as well. In exchange, they were given a home at her family’s palace in the Dragontail Mountains.

“Done.” Leanne held up her creation. It was beautifully wrought, a wreath of stems and yuin root twined so delicately, and yet held sturdy. It was topped with poppies, white and black, aloe leaves from the garden, mountain tails and persa flowers.

“You have a gift,” Shani gasped.

“I know, silly. I’m about to give it to you.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly.” Shani giggled, and sat up straight for her crowning. Leanne lay it gently on the wreath of black curls, and before her hands could leave her head, Shani reached up and took them in hers. Leanne’s hands were calloused from her many duties; in the princess’s small, smooth fingers, they felt strong, and the roughness sent little tingles on her skin. Touch is the skin’s way of speaking, Shani recalled from an old romantic story she’d read, and Leanne’s whispered messages of comfort and safety to her.

“Thank you, my queen. This is a wonderful birthday gift.”

The corner of Leanne’s lips curved up. “It’s not your birthday for another week. I’ll have a real gift for you then.”

“Truly? What is it?”

She smirked. “I can’t spoil the surprise.”

“In other words, you have no idea what to give me.”

“Shut up, of course I do.” Their fingers intertwined, locking dark brown and milky white together. “But nonetheless, I feel compelled to ask. What is it that you desire, my queen?”

In answer, Shani leaned in. Leanne cocked her head in kind, and when their lips met her blood raced through her. It was so many things with Leanne: calm but turbulent, safe yet risky, familiar and still unknown. There was no single word to describe it. She kissed her softly at first, until she found herself pressing against her, and they were lying down on the flat rock, a bed of stone for them to share. Something pushed within her, and Shani’s hands ran down Leanne’s arms, over and under her waist to wrap around her back. Leanne shifted them both, bringing Shani underneath her. She ran a hand under her head, keeping her hair from the rough stone, and Shani let the hand lift her head up closer into Leanne’s kiss. She felt coarse fingers brushing softly across her neck, tugging the hem of the silk, and the moment she gasped Leanne’s tongue pushed into her mouth. She welcomed the intrusion, twisting her tongue around the other girl’s, tasting the sweetness of peach and crisp water, saliva and the faint rankness of morning breath, tasting her. Leanne parted the kiss, and Shani looked at her. Locks of her hair hung over her face, tickling Shani’s, and her eyes were hardly even open.

“Your wish is mine to grant, my queen,” the servant rasped, and lowered herself to Shani’s collar. She closed her eyes again as Leanne’s lips touched her skin, dancing from shoulder to chin. She writhed hungrily beneath her, Leanne pushed her head aside with her face, falling on the spot under her jaw where her neck was the most sensitive–she knew from tickling her when they were children, and now she went at it cruel and eager. The air rushed out of Shani’s chest in a low moan, and she bit her lip out of impulse. It felt like that surging, hungry thing inside her was fighting to get out.

“Sing for me, my queen,” Leanne beckoned with a whisper in her ear. She bit down on it softly, and continued back down her face and neck. Shani let the demon out, moaning and gasping, turning her head aside again to let Leanne have at her neck.

In the shadows beneath a cluster of ginkgo trees, she saw them. A pair of yellow eyes staring straight at her. They shone with a strange gleam that seemed to suck in the light around them. The pupils weren’t the slits of a cat or the squares of a goat, but round and small, more human than animal. And then they were gone. Shani’s whole body went stiff.

“What’s wrong?” Leanne asked. “Was I going too fast? Was it the biting?”

“No! No, it wasn’t you. I just… I thought I saw someone watching.”

Leanne’s face went pale. She pushed herself up. “Who? Are they still there? Where did they go?” Her head darted to the right, scanning the trees around the grove.

“Calm down. It was just an animal, most like.” Shani sat up and planted a kiss on her cheek. “No one will ever find us here, okay? We’re safe. I promise.” She wasn’t sure who’s comfort she was saying it for. Leanne seemed to calm, and smiled at her, but it was that same bittered smile that Shani knew, and hated to see. “I mean it, Leanne. This is our grove. We’re queens here, and I’m princess out there. We’re safe together, and that will never change.”

Leanne’s expression softened. “Of course, princess.”

Chapter II. “Hearthfire”

The birds sung to their return. Even as the garden came into view from the trail, their hands remained held. Leanne’s warm laugh eased Shaniera so much that she had almost forgotten about the hare she’d spotted here. Almost. But when she looked to the spot as they passed, she saw no sign of it. A scavenger must have claimed it, she reasoned, and thought no more of it.

“There it is, my father’s new love,” Leanne said as they came by the pumpkins. They had all been tiny sprouts on the vine during Last Seed, but now the largest of the bunch was a swelling mass too wide around to wrap one’s arms around it. “Father is going to bake a hundred pies out of the smaller ones, and then he and Gro’shuba are going to cart them down to Tigonus for the festival along with that great big one. They’ll smash it open and bake the seeds for snacks for the children. Of course, that depends on my father being able to part with his beloved gourd. He calls it his ‘prized darling’.”

Shaniera stifled a chortle, trying to sound sympathetic. “It sounds like you’ve been replaced.”

“No. I’m still his wonderful daughter, but I’m all grown, so he’s already calling me a job well done. Now he needs to raise new things. Though the place of his wife has been vacant for as long as I can remember.”

“Quick, we should marry them before they leave. That way, he won’t be able to kill her.”

Leanne’s laugh was like the soft patter of summer rain on stone, and it affected you differently sometimes; when Shani was holding her hand, like now, hearing her laugh felt like that rain was landing on her, running down her back and sending a rush straight through her body. “Perhaps we should. Perhaps he’s already named it after mother. He has said that she was a plump woman, so I guess it would be fitting.”

“Well, he is going to have a few days alone with Gro’shuba…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Those two couldn’t be more unfit for one another. It’d be as if…”

“As if I were to court her?”

Leanne’s face grew red. Shani couldn’t help the laugh. It was all too easy to tease the woman. She’d once mentioned how attractive she found Gro’shuba’s muscular form, and Leanne had seemed almost eager to prove how jealous the notion made her, going so far as to shirk her other duties in favor of working the mill. Her soreness had paid off, though, and beneath that cotton shift she had arms that would make many a Breton man jealous. “Hush yourself,” she grumbled. “You are such a brat.”

A few thoughts suddenly occurred to Shani. “That sounds like a lot of trouble to go through, carting that thing down if all they’re going to do is bake the seeds.

“Because the pumpkin is an attraction, too. People will come for pies, but more will come to have a look at a vegetable bigger than they are.”

That seemed to make sense. “If he’s baking the pies before they leave, how will they keep warm?”

“Your father’s fire salts. Your mother had the idea. They’ve already taken them out, and put the granite tray in a flat lead sheet. That will go in the bottom of a metal chest with the pies.”

“That’s… generous of her.” Now this was unexpected. Shani’s father had been a hunter, but not the sort that hunted wild game. He went to strange and far places after otherworldly creatures, mostly Daedra from Oblivion. The fire salts were part of a grand collection he had amassed, the tray of black granite used to display them needed to resist the heat and keep it from setting fire to the rest of the cabinet. That collection was her father’s achievement, and no one had touched it since he passed away–until now, apparently, and at the word of her mother, which was all the more surprising.

“Shaniera.” Her voice came from straight ahead. Had she slipped from the house just now, or had she been standing there this whole time, and they were too distracted to notice?

“Mother.” Shani slipped her hand from Leanne’s. “Beautiful morning.”

“To you as well. I trust that you enjoyed your little stroll?” She was clutching a white linen sheet. Her fingers, long and slender, sank into the folds like black talons in cream. Shani could see where a few threads were fraying loose from the fabric, and though she wasn’t joined with Leanne anymore, she could feel her wince at her side.

As if she could read their minds, her mother turned to the servant. “Leanne, dear, I could not help but notice this torn sheet on the clothesline. Would you kindly see to this?” Those words were never warm when mother spoke them. It was how you knew that she wasn’t asking.

“Yes, mistress.” Leanne bowed, then took the sheet and her leave, stealing a quick glance at Shani. Don’t worry, she wanted to tell her as she left.

“Shaniera,” her mother repeated, turning back to her. “I hope you have energy to walk a little more.”

“Where to, mother?”

“Just around the house. Come.” Always dressed in flowing silk with rippling patterns, her mother looked like one of the fabled blade-dancers of old Yokudan legend. Her hair billowed in thick black waves down her shoulders and around the sides and top of her head, like a great curly lion’s mane. She was always luxurious, never allowing anyone to look upon her in a state of disarray. Dignity was everything with her. But under the stern layers, there was something different there this morning. Most would not have been able to see it, but Shaniera knew the woman better than most.

“Mother, is there something the matter? You look troubled.”

Her mother’s frown only deepened. “You are a grown woman now, and I see no point in hiding the truth from you. It would appear that Renoa has left us.”

Shaniera was stunned. Left us? Had she suddenly died in the night? “Has she…”

“She was seen leaving the manse late last night, and she hasn’t returned. No one has seen her since. Her sword and her mother’s necklace are gone, as well.”

Shani walked blindly, her thoughts consumed with attempts at rationalization. Why would Ren leave? When she last spoke to her, she seemed content enough. She was a cousin from her father’s side, who came to live with them after her mother had died. She taught Shani how to dance when her mother was too busy, and liked to play knights in the garden when they were girls. She was kind to her, and she was happy, and now to just leave…

“For what purpose?”

“I don’t know, and frankly I don’t care. I’ve sent out Mikhael and Boros to search the woods to the north, and Rodar and Hasan to the villages south. If she still lives, she won’t be too far. In any case, we have more pressing matters to attend to.”

What could be more pressing than my cousin running away? Shani wanted to ask, but knew better. If anyone could find her, it would be those men. Rodar and Hasan were friendly faces amongst the villages in their area of the mountains, and Mikhael and Boros were experienced with traversing the highlands, being the only other Bretons in their service. They had come from High Rock to the north in the same fashion as Toren and Leanne, captured in some factional border conflict years ago, saved by Shaniera’s father and given employ at the Farúk.

Her mother continued, not waiting to be asked. “The king of Sentinel has agreed to our proposal.”

The morning’s nervousness was gone, and in its place was the dreadful sort of nervous that came with the end of something good. Your proposal, you mean. “Truly? That’s… wonderful news.”

“You don’t need to feign excitement. I know you haven’t taken a liking to the idea, but trust me when I say you will warm up to it. It is a bright future for both you and your children. And I am certain you will like the prince, too.”

“Will I get to meet him before we wed, at least?”

“Yes. On the morrow, actually.”

“The king of Sentinel is coming tomorrow?”

Her mother was seldom amused, and when she chortled it was a short, hard noise that was nothing like laughter. “The king is not coming. If he were, I would have given you a fortnight’s notice. The prince is his second son, not the prince next in line for the kingdom, to be sure, but close up the ladder. The boy is travelling with his uncle. When they arrive, however, you must act as if you were meeting with the king. You will wear your most beautiful dress, the red and gold silk and velvet, I think. Yes, that one. It will show just enough of you to please the prince, but not overly salacious.”

Shani felt the heat return to her face, and she fought a groan before it could spill out of her. “Perhaps I should just wear my dancer’s costume? I could show him a sword dance in the garden, and see if he has any skill.”

Her mother did not seem to like the idea. “Shaniera, please. You have too much of your father in you, you know. He was the adventurous soul, and believe it or not there was a time when his own mother had to have this very conversation when it came to marrying me. But we came to love each other, or at least I loved him, and hoped he had the same for me.”

“Nonsense. Father loved you more than life itself.” This was the only subject that Shaniera ever dared to speak to her mother so brusquely about. She had a great catalogue of memories of her parents, the way they stole sweet little glances with one another, how her father praised her mother’s beauty and wisdom at every opportunity, and how when Shani grew old enough to look after herself, they would find time to slip quietly away from everyone else, to be alone in each other’s company. Shani had no childlike delusions of how that time was spent, behind the locked doors of their room, or off on the many trails throughout the mountain’s woods surrounding their home. Her father had shared tales of how his brother and sister grew bitter in their marriages, and her mother certainly had no end of distaste for Shani’s aunt, and the way she treated her husband in years past, and in light of those tales she was happy at her parent’s clear intimacy. Nothing could describe the wound she and her mother felt when he died, chasing some obscure creature deep into Craglorn, a creature that finally bested him after all he had survived. He was an adventurous soul, as her mother said. It made her wonder for a moment if those sneaky escapes ever took her parents to the river where she and Leanne came to for each other’s company, and she hoped that any reason her mother might have for going there died with her father years ago.

As they came round to the front of the house, Shani was shaken from her thoughts by a rumbling in the earth, soft and distant but growing closer. “Horses,” she said as the sound grew loud enough to identify. “The prince?”

“Impossible,” her mother said, frowning. “They agreed to the first of Frostfall, no earlier.”

Up the winding road that led to the front of the house, a horse galloped into view, followed by two more, then six, and soon at least a dozen men were riding towards them. They wore black scarves over their heads, encircling hard faces of different shades of brown, some closely shaved and some thick with beards. They were Redguards, to be sure. The man at the front had a nose like a sharp beak, and a ghastly scar running down from temple to lip, cutting across where his right eye once was–in its place was a black gem that glistened like it was filled with blood. At his sides rode two of their family guards, Rodar and Hasan, the only men of the group that Shani recognized.

The one-eyed man reared his horse several paces away from the two women, and the others stopped behind him. He turned his intact eye onto Shaniera, and then her mother. “Ah’zuli, I presume?” He said, his voice thick with the dusty accent of southern Hammerfell, from deep within the Alik’r.

“You presume too much,” her mother snapped. “To you I am Madam al-Farúk, and anything else is insolence.”

“My apologies, Madam al-Farúk. Please forgive my transgression, for I am a humble soldier without a king, and my courtesies dry up in the desert sun.”

“More than that, I can see. Now, before you state your business, I would speak with my guards. Rodar, Hasan, any sign of my niece?”

Rodar scratched his bald head. “No, Madam. We went as far as the third village down the mountain. She could not have gotten so far without a horse.”

“Very well. Perhaps the others will have more luck. Now, what of these ruffians you’ve brought to my doorstep?”

Rodar looked to Hasan, silently passing him the responsibility. Hasan tugged at the collar of his leather jerkin, the muscles in his neck and arms visibly tensing. “My lady, these unclean people were with the prince’s entourage.”

“‘Unclean people’?”

The one-eyed man straightened up. “We are indeed called Ash’abah, Madam. We are warriors sworn to defend the living of Hammerfell. It is only our actions against the undead that are unclean; in doing so, we keep the rest of the land unsullied.”

Shani recalled the name, vaguely. Ash’abah did translate roughly to ‘unclean people’ in old Yoku. Her people’s veneration of the dead made it abhorrent to commit violent acts against them, which presented a problem when dark magic animated the dead and drove them to violence against the living. These people did the distasteful act of fighting such monstrosities.

Her mother nodded at the man, seeming to remember herself. “Of course, the Ash’abah. I hope you did not disturb the king’s men with your sacrilegious behavior. Nor do I hope for you to be here when they arrive tomorrow.”

A tension hung in the air. Rodar and Hasan exchanged glances, as if they held onto something neither wanted to share with their mistress. Ah’zuli looked between the both of them, questioning them with only an expression sharp as a dagger. In the end, it was the one-eyed man who spoke up for them.

“The prince’s uncle has taken a wound, Madam al-Farúk,” the stranger said. “They are uncertain as to what inflicted it, though we believe it to be the monstrosity which we have been hunting through the Dragon’s Tail. Regardless, their party has been delayed as he recovers in the village where we met your men. The prince sends his regards and his apologies, as well as his promise that he will come with his own escort in three days’ time should his uncle’s condition not improve.”

Shani felt a mix of emotions. She was relieved that the meeting with the prince would be delayed, but still, she took no joy in hearing that his uncle was in a grave condition. And there was the mention of a monstrosity lurking in the Dragontail Mountains. She thought back to the feeling in the woods, to the eyes she saw by the river, or at least the eyes she thought she saw. Perhaps she should mention it… no, she wouldn’t dare. It would mean betraying Leanne and their secret.

Her mother took in a breath, calm as ever, always dignified. “Rodar, Hasan. Does he tell the truth?”

They nodded. “Yes, Madam,” Rodar said. “We were witnesses to the prince’s words as well.”

“Very well.” She turned to the one-eyed man. “You, sir…”

“Xadoran,” he said, bowing his head.

“Xadoran. You and your Ash’abah may pass by our lands to continue your search. Steer clear of the gardens behind the manse, however, or else you will be introduced to the rest of our family’s guard, and under much less civil circumstances.”

Xadoran grimaced. His teeth were old and yellowed, though he had all of them still, and none of them crooked or bent out of place.

“I must warn you, Madam: I can smell the stench of death unhallowed here. You would be most wise to let us search your grounds, too.”

“And you would be even wiser to obey my directions the first time. Luckily for you, I am feeling rather generous this morning, and will offer you a second chance. Go on, or turn back.”

His frown deepened, but he bowed his head. “As you wish, Madam al-Farúk. Beautiful morning to you and your daughter.”

Chapter III. “Unhallowed”

The chamber pots smelled of roses and tangerines after Leanne had scrubbed them, and when that was done she scrubbed her hands as vigorously. Her fingers were shriveled like raisins from the water, and they felt a layer’s worth of skin lighter, and so did the rest of her, in a sense. It was time to roughen these hands up again, she thought, and spent the next couple of hours pushing the mill. The wheat would be enough for a small household as theirs, and they would have fresh bread for whenever the prince arrived. It felt as if there were a parasite within her when she thought of that prince coming here. He would take Shani away from her. It was an ugly truth, one that the parasite hungered for, and drank away her insides whenever she tried to face it. It hurt like the pain that came when she bled every month, like how she imagined it would be to bear a child, but unlike with childbirth there was no bright future to hope for here. She could not imagine what her life would be after Shani married, and only hope that she might be allowed to serve at her new home, wherever that may be.

She found Shani’s mother in her personal study. Ah’zuli was poring over a ledger. Leanne couldn’t recall the last time she had seen the woman with her hair in any sort of messy state, but her beauty was still as profound.

“Leanne, darling, how much grain have we ready for the kitchen?” She did not look up when she spoke, only dipped a red and purple quill into an inkwell.

“About ten pounds, I should say, Madam.”

“Excellent.” She scribbled a note in the book. The only sound in the room was the scratching on paper, and Leanne thought she could hear Ah’zuli breathing. “Gods preserve me, now that we have more time before the prince’s arrival, I am noticing more and more things that we should do to prepare. And it’s clear that Renoa was planning her little escapade well in advance of her disappearance: there are half a dozen chores I entrusted to her since over a week ago, none of them done in their entirety.”

“I’ve cleaned the spare chamber pots, milady, and those used this morning.”

This seemed to placate her well enough. “Wonderful. That should free you up for some time on the mill…”

“I’ve already worked the mill today. We had eight pounds yesterday.”

“My goodness, you’ve been busy. That explains the pungent stench, I suppose. Go and wash up girl, you’ve earned it.” As Leanne was turning to leave, Ah’zuli added, “actually, run a bath for both yourself and my daughter. Shaniera didn’t bathe yesterday and she’s been practicing her dancing all morning, so I can only imagine she stinks as much as you. And do make sure the girl scrubs thoroughly. I want her to keep herself at her freshest each day, in case that damn boy decides to spring himself upon us early.”

It was all Leanne could do to mumble an affirmation before she hurried from the room, her face red-hot. She bathed Shani on occasion, but it was rare to be ordered to bathe herself at the same time. Then again, it was an abnormally hot day for late Hearthfire, so a bit of sweat was to be expected, and it was always best to conserve fresh water wherever possible.

That gave her an idea. And she was loving it more every second.

“Hey, sweaty. Time for a bath.” Leanne leaned on the doorframe of the dancing room’s entrance. It was a haven of sky-blue walls and marble columns, decorated with murals of painted vines, exotic birds, and wildflowers. A massive mirror hung on the opposite wall, and adjacent to that a set of windows, altogether almost as large, were open to let in the soft breeze to fight back the warm humidity. Shani was seated on the floor, her legs stretched out to either side of her. She wore a blue outfit of light, flowing silk that covered her arms, legs, and chest, but left her shoulders and stomach exposed. Leanne tried to seem casual with the orders she was bringing, but seeing Shani in her revealing dancing garb was enough to bring the blush back.

“Look who’s talking,” the princess-to-be said, smirking. She bent her hip, bringing her torso down towards her leg as she grabbed onto a bare foot. “Your hair’s a travesty, sweatheart.”

“You mean ‘sweetheart’, sweetheart.”

“Pfft, I know what I said. It was funny.”

“Yes, your humor is sharper than Gro’shuba’s tusk. But your mother agrees, we both need a bath. Which is why we’re taking one together.”

“Oh, is that so?” Even as she said it with her head bowed down and her hair draped over her face, Shani revealed herself all too well. Leanne could see the edges of her nervous smile, and how her fingers curled up as if holding a pinch of sand.

“Come on, princess.” Leanne reached down for the basket of towels and soap. “I’ve got an idea.”

No one paid them any mind on their way through the garden. Yet as Leanne walked, her hand in Shani’s as she did a silly little skip, a chill found its way through the heat of the day to bore underneath her skin. It was a hunter’s instinct, her father would say, but somehow Leanne felt as if she were prey, oblivious in the thin veneer of the garden’s safety as to whatever lurked just beyond the familiar crops. As she passed the great pumpkin, she thought she glimpsed flies buzzing around it, and jerked to look in fear that her father’s prized beast had expired too soon–but it was only a trick of the light, or her own mind. The pumpkin was as healthy as it had ever been, as was Shani, and herself… so what was this feeling?

By the time she had convinced herself it was nothing, they were at the river. She set the basket down and laid out the towels on the flat rock, and took out a glass vial filled with a light purple liquid. “For the hair,” she said, giving the bottle a jiggle.

“Your mother’s recipe? My favorite.” Shaniera slipped off her shawl; underneath she was still wearing her dancing clothes. “You’re trying exceptionally hard to seduce me today, aren’t you?”

“As per your mother’s instructions, I am making sure you are at your freshest.” She set the bottle down in a mound of soft dirt, then rose to undo the laces of her shift. She hadn’t gone through a single knot before Shani was there, grasping her hands to move them away.

“Let me,” she whispered, and worked at the knot with delicate fingers.

“I can undress myself, my lady,” Leanne protested, her courteous training kicking in. It was incredibly uncouth for a servant to let a noble lady do a menial task on her behalf.

“So can I,” Shani said. “And I can bathe myself too, but I’m going to let you do those things for me anyway.” She unwound the double knot at the base of Leanne’s throat, and moved on to the knots at her wrists. “When was the last time you let someone do something for you?” Leanne had no answer, so she took in a breath and relaxed herself. Shani loosened the sleeves and returned her hands to the neckline, parting the flaps of the cotton dress until they hung far to the sides, tips reaching her shoulders. She unfastened the belt at her waist, and after that the shift came down with only a tug. Leanne stepped out of the dress, and Shani rolled it up and threw it aside. Leanne was blushing already, and still she had her undergarments. Shani stepped in close as her fingers slipped around the wide strip of wool around Leanne’s chest. Her breath tickled her chin, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Shani lingered there, the two of them somewhat like different versions of the same dress, one ornate and refined, the other rustic and simple, and between them a softness that went beyond the borders of station that separated them, a warmth from Aetherius itself. Do Mara and Dibella smile upon us? Leanne wondered as her friend slid the strap down her body, and the warm air brushed her chest. Dibella must, certainly, for when the last garment came away from her hips, she felt the breeze shift a bit cooler down below, like it did on skin coated in cold sweat. Her skin was indeed wet, but not from the sweat, and the realization suddenly made her bring her hands down to shield that which was most private to her.

“Come on, Leanne. You were never made to wear timidity. It’s nothing I haven’t seen.” At Shani’s words, she moved her hands to her side, and let her princess look upon her as the divines did. Nude, yes, but naked as well. Shani lifted her hands up to remove the last of Leanne’s textile ornaments, the little length of yarn holding her hair in a bun. Auburn locks fell like curtains at the edge of her vision, and then Shani’s hands, and soon her face closed in to fill the space between. Leanne tilted her head, accepting the kiss with a firm consent. She was vulnerable before her lady, who was above her in all measures (save height and age), but she knew she was as safe as she ever could be. When Shani parted from her, Leanne’s eyes lingered closed for a second more, and opened to the sight of Shani’s hair shining in the sun. Greasy, she thought. We really do need a bath.

“Now, me,” her lady beckoned. Her airy outfit was fastened in place by brass clasps and pins. Leanne undid the sleeves, their own separate pieces, and slid them from Shani’s arms one after the other. Her arms were slender, rarely burdened by the weights that Leanne often bore, but there was still refinement to the muscle in her body. It was a dancer’s form, Leanne reflected as she unclasped the buckle behind her back. Slight, but strong and graceful. The chest piece was a backing of tanned leather covered in golden scales, with a wide cut of blue silk wrapped over them. Without the leather and scales, the silk would have hidden nothing of the wearer’s breasts. It made little difference now, once Leanne had slipped the piece down Shani’s arms. She held it for a moment, fearing it too elegant to toss on the dirt, but Shani dismissed her hesitation with a wave. The belt of golden discs around her waist held up the baggy pants, and beneath those she was naked too.

“Hang on, I think we missed a step,” Shani said, lifting her foot. She slipped off the sandals herself, and Leanne did the same with her own shoes. They placed their footwear together, and then Shani gathered up all of their clothes, and with a wink at Leanne, lobbed them into the water.

“Shaniera!” Leanne gawked at her.

“What? Our clothes are sweaty, too. May as well wash them too while we’re here.”

“Cloth dries much slower than skin, Shani. We’ll be here for hours, unless you want to walk back home naked.”

“Well, I guess we have no choice but to spend more time here together.”

Leanne couldn’t help but laugh. Admittedly, it was a pretty good excuse for getting them to stay here longer… not that spending more time together was something she would mind, anyway. The bank of the water here was a steep slope that allowed them to walk in, pushing their clothes out ahead of them. The place they liked to swim looked much like a lake, but it was merely a wide section of the river that flowed from the peak of the mountain above. A thin curtain of water rained down from a sheet of rock up ahead, and the water here emptied out through a wall of rocks that shielded them from going over the edge of the waterfall, if they chose to swim that close. The current was so minute that it was negligible, though they did have to focus on keeping the clothing that wasn’t in hand from drifting away. They attended to that first, scrubbing the dirt and sweat from the cotton and silk, and stepped onto the riverbank dripping wet to shake out their clothes before hanging them on a nearby tree branch. Shani ran to their basket, snatched the bottle of the hair-washing solution, and bound to a ledge to leap into the water with a delighted screech. Leanne grabbed a sponge and jumped in after her. The water was well-warmed by the Hammerfell sun, but still cool compared to the hot air above, and it seemed to breathe new life into her when she plunged beneath the surface. She opened her eyes, resisting the urge to flinch when the water touched them, and was delighted to find how clear the water was. She swam over to the pair of brown legs and stroked the sole of a foot, nearly getting kicked in the face for it. She burst up to the surface grinning.

“Damn, you can see down there?” Shani asked, amazed.

“Sure can. All I had to look for was that black bush between your legs.”

Shani guffawed, struggling to stay afloat. “Well, in that case it should be no difficult thing finding you underwater. Yours is as bright as a torch. Hey, how is it that the hair down there doesn’t match the hair on your head?”

Leanne sent a splash of water at the younger woman’s face. Shani turned to swim away, but she launched forward and had an arm around her before she could get far, and soon Leanne was bringing them both back to the shallows. “Sit down and enjoy the water, my lady,” she bade, taking the bottle and pouring some of the mix onto Shani’s head. It was made of squashed juniper berries, aloe oil, and honey, and it made you smell like a goddess had kissed your head when you washed your hair with it, and feel it too. Leanne lathered it into the curls of her lady’s hair. It was coarse and thick, almost like wool, and heavy from the water. Leanne imagined what it would be like to run her fingers through that hair, when it and its wearer were dry and warm, in her bedchambers. Why did she feel… longing? They were here now together, without a stitch of clothing between either of them, and her fingers were running through Shani’s hair, scratching her scalp and making her sigh with satisfaction. What amount of intimacy could I possibly yearn for?

She knew the answer, but forced it away as she moved on. The bubbles from the pale pink soap made Shani’s body shine as she scrubbed away dirt and dead skin. She looked away as she soaped up Shani’s chest, and the girl couldn’t resist teasing her over it. “At least look at me,” she asked, and when Leanne did so she laughed. “I didn’t mean at my tits.” She had demure breasts, small and pretty, not as heavy as Leanne’s. A dancer’s form, she reminded herself. When her princess was all scrubbed down and the sweet lather rinsed from her hair, Leanne picked up the bottle from where it floated to the side.

“Oh no,” Shani scolded, grabbing the bottle from her. “Again, when was the last time you let someone do something for you?”

“I think it was ten minutes ago.”

“Relax and keep quiet, darling.” She cupped a big scoop of water in her hands and poured it over Leanne’s head. The Breton closed her eyes and let the sensation of the water and the sweet smell of the shampoo envelope her. She hadn’t realized until a short time ago just how greasy her hair was, and she relished the feeling of Shani’s fingers scrubbing the itch from her scalp.

“Relax,” Shani whispered. “You’re the queen here, too.” And Leanne did, giving herself over to Shani’s embrace, letting her massage and scrub her shoulders, her arms and hands, under her fingernails. She felt the girl’s pointy breasts poke into her back, then Shani’s whole torso was pressed against hers, washing her body with her own, and with her hands she took care of Leanne’s stomach and chest. She squeezed the sponge and drenched her breasts in soapy water, and kneaded them tenderly with her soft little fingers, and then she kissed the nape of her neck, and then the side, and her hair brushed against Leanne’s shoulder, oh, her hair… she lost herself in the feeling, the warmth of being taken care of. It felt so good, wrapped in her arms, safe in the peace of the river, her queen was here, and she was all that mattered… and the lump hardened in her throat. No, she willed. Please, don’t.

“What’s wrong?” Shani asked. “Are you crying?”

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT. Leanne sniffled, shook her head, but kept her eyes closed.

“Come now, Leanne. Please, talk to me.”

“That prince,” she mumbled, her voice coming out weak and shivering through her tears. She couldn’t stand sounding so pathetic. “Your mother’s going to have you married off within the year. I may… never… see you…”

“Hey, hey. No.” Shani hovered around in front of her and held her face in her hands. “That isn’t going to happen, okay?”

“You can’t do anything about it, Shani.”

“Yes. I’ll spit in that prince’s face when he comes, and he’ll never want to marry me. The gods know I don’t care to marry him.”

“Your mother won’t care for that. You’re her only child. She needs you to carry on your family’s legacy.”

“Fuck legacy, and if she forces me, then I’ll just take you with me.”

“What if she wants me to stay here?”

“Too bad. I’ll be the queen of Sentinel, and she’ll have to obey me.”

“No, you’ll only be a princess, Shani.” You stupid girl, she wanted to scream, both at Shani and herself. You can’t always get what you want. We have no power here.

“Leanne,” Shaniera whispered. “Please, look at me.”

She opened her eyes a little, then blinked. “You’re getting soap in my eyes.”

“What? Oh, shit.” She released Leanne, plunged her hands into the water, and then splashed some right into her face. Leanne sputtered and coughed, shook out the water until she could see, and then they laughed. Better to enjoy this than lament, she reasoned.

Shani grabbed the sponge and soap. “We still need to do your legs.”

When her legs were clean, Leanne took the sponge and stepped onto the shore to wash between her toes. They would get covered in dirt when they left, but that could be rinsed off at home. Shani climbed out and ran over to a ledge hanging over the deeper part of the river. She stood like a titan with her legs apart, arms on her hips.

“Behold, mortal!” She bellowed in as deep a voice as she could muster. “For I am Shaniera, daedric prince of the water!” Leanne giggled. At eighteen years old, Shani was a grown woman–but woe to the fool who tried to tell her to act it. Only her mother could get away with that. “Now, witness as I come unto my domain!” Shani took a step back, raised her arms up and pressed her palms together above her head in a spear-like stance. She fell forward, leaping off the ledge halfway down, gliding flawlessly into a dive. Leanne sighed as her princess–nay, prince–pierced the water, and she bent down to scrub her sole. She heard another splash, and thought it odd. What else would be jumping into the river?

She looked up, and there they were: a pair of eyes, peering through a wet mop of black hair. Whoever or whatever was looking at her, it was beneath the hanging ledge from where Shani had leapt, shrouded in shadow and roots. Shani. The thought of her shook Leanne from her fear. She dashed onto the shore, grabbed her dagger from the bottom of the basket, and jumped into the water, swimming hard with the steel clenched in her teeth. When she reached the ledge, the creature was gone. A faint red cloud was slowly dissipating in the water below, and Leanne looked around desperately. “SHANI!” she screamed through her teeth. She turned around. Over by the far shore, a strip of brown floated in the water, a cloud of black hair, the shape of a person’s legs. Leanne’s heart sank. “Shani!” She lashed at the water, forcing her way across the river as hard as she could. She was stronger than she realized, and she cut through the water like an arrow through air. When she got close, there was no doubting that she had been correct, it was Shaniera, floating face-down. No sign of blood, at least, but it mattered little to Leanne. She wrapped an arm around her lady’s waist and swam her over to the shore. She threw her onto the ground, then lifted herself up, tossing the dagger aside.

Shaniera laughed when Leanne turned her over. “Ha! The look on your face!” She squealed. “I got you. Dancer’s lungs, girl! I could’ve gone another two minutes, at least–woah, hey!”

Leanne had no words as she grabbed her by the arms and yanked her up. She didn’t think about what she was doing; fear and adrenaline still coursed hot through her veins. Twisting to sit in the dirt, she threw Shani up and over her legs, laying her down onto her lap. She scrambled to escape, but Leanne was the stronger by far, and pinned her in place with one arm before she could slip away. When she realized what was happening, she threw her right hand over her butt, but Leanne grabbed the arm and held it down against her back, leaving her bottom exposed. Leanne brought her hand down hard onto its soft flesh, and Shani’s cry was much more in bewilderment than pain.

“You are such a brat!” Leanne shouted, and rained down a flurry of smacks, her palm cracking loud against Shani’s wet skin. She rained the blows between both sides of her bottom, punctuating each one with a word. “Don’t. You. Ever. Scare. Me. Like. That. Again!” Slap, slap, slap, she wailed on her until her cheeks blushed pink and her hand stung all over. She delivered one final strike, right down the middle, and Shani reared her head, gritting her teeth from the blow.

“Learnt your lesson?” Leanne managed between hard breaths. She hadn’t taken a moment to breathe since that swim across the river.

Shani grunted. “No,” she said, her voice trembling, and Leanne worried that she’d gone too far. Then Shani looked over her shoulder, and through her watery eyes she gave her a dark smile. “So, will you continue?”

“I–uh.” Leanne blinked. “Well, if you haven’t learnt your lesson…”

“No, I haven’t. I think I need some more spanking, or I might just try to scare you again.” She sounded as winded as Leanne, but her wicked expression remained.

Leanne felt her anger cooling. “You weren’t supposed to enjoy that…”

“I didn’t. Not all of it, at least.”

“You weren’t supposed to enjoy any of it.” Leanne looked at her with a suspicious face. Then she smacked her bottom again, playfully this time. “Which, I suppose, makes you even worse. Naughty little girl.”

Shani lifted her bottom up, towards the blows. “Precisely. I’ve done so many awful things lately, so you may as well punish me for that, too. Do that one again, the one where you hit me down the middle.”

“Hey, you are not the one in charge here.” She did it anyway, and Shani tensed, moaning under the torment. Her right hand was free again; their left hands were now held together, in union rather than control.

“Let me know when you’ve learnt your lesson, princess. Let me know when to stop.” Leanne continued, until Shani squeezed her hand tight. She was looking away from her, Leanne noticed, and was about to ask if she was okay, and then she saw it on the edge of her periphery.

The woman was naked as they were, waist-deep in the river just a few feet away. Long hair, black as coal, clung wetly to her pale white shoulders. She was needle-thin, flat-breasted, and covered in scars. A deep gash in her arm was slowly leaking dark red into the river. Her skin was smooth, not a goose bump in sight, but she shivered all the same, looking at them with eyes of shimmering amber. Leanne shoved Shani off to the side, grabbed her dagger, and moved between the princess and the stranger.

“Who are you?” She barked, leveling the tip of her blade at the woman. Even though it was clear that she had seen everything, instinct drove Leanne’s free arm up to cover her chest.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whimpered, cringing away from the weapon. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Please, don’t hurt me.”

“You were watching us. I’ll ask you once more, and only once. Who are you?”

“My name is Ella. Please, can you help me? I’m so scared, I–”

“Don’t count yourself the only one.” She saw us, Leanne thought. She’s been watching us. It must have been her that Shani saw yesterday. If she tells anyone, if Ah’zuli finds out… Shani will get much worse than a spanking, and Arkay knows what might happen to me. She summoned her courage, and tried to sound as big and tough as she needed to. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cut your throat.”

“I…” the woman stammered, and fell apart. “Please, please help me. I’ve been in these mountains for so long, so far from home, and they’re after me, they want my blood…”

“Slow down. Who’s after you?”

“Vampires.” The word came out of her like a wince. “They said my blood would sate Molag, they wanted me for a ritual… they hurt me, and they were going to kill me, so I ran. Please, I can’t keep running.” She wasn’t doing anything to staunch the blood flowing from her arm.

“Leanne, I think we should help,” Shani started. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

“Oh, shit. Someone’s coming.” The drum of horse-hooves was distant, from the other side of the river, and getting louder. The woman looked up at them helplessly, and Leanne cursed herself and Shani as she reached out to the stranger. “Come on, quickly now.” The woman took her hand and she helped her from the water, and the three of them darted over to a cluster of bushes and hit the dirt one-by-one. Leanne moved a little further with the woman in tow, meaning to keep herself between her and Shani, but for whatever reason the princess decided to pass them and drop down right next to the stranger.

Through the brush, they watched a black Yokudan charger break into view, followed by others of the same breed. They were ridden by those people who came to the house yesterday. The man on the black horse in front, Xadoran, surveyed the area with his one good eye. Panic crept over Leanne as she realized that their clothes were still on that side of the river, hung from a tree, and she prayed the group wouldn’t go far enough into their secret place to find them.

“The Ash’abah,” Shani muttered. “They hunt monsters. Maybe they could help you, Ella.”

Her eyes were wide with terror. “No,” she hissed. “They’re just as bad, if not worse. They’ll want to know where the vampires are, they’ll torture me to find out, but I won’t be able to tell them. I’ve only been running, they won’t understand…”

“Hey, it’s okay. Shhh.” Shani put an arm on the girl’s back and cooed her down. The sight of her lady comforting another woman in this state of undress panged Leanne, but she held her tongue. They had more important things to worry about right now.

Xadoran spun his horse around, said something they couldn’t make out, and rode out into the woods. The others followed suit, and the three girls released the breath they’d been holding. They waited for a few minutes, then Leanne rose and beckoned them to follow. Ella turned out to be a fairly capable swimmer, despite the gash in her arm, and soon they were all back on the other side. Leanne scooped up their towels and handed one to Shani.

“We’ll go and get you something for that wound, Ella,” Leanne said as she dried off. “As well as some clothes. Come here.” She wrapped her towel around herself and the stranger, covering the both of them as best she could, and the three of them started for the manse. When someone is in danger, you can always help, Leanne thought to herself. What’s the worst that can come of it? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

Chapter IV. “Innocence”

“So, let me see if I understand this correctly,” Ah’zuli said. “This girl’s home was attacked by iron orcs, and she ran all the way down the mountain on her own, and ran into you in the woods?”

Shaniera gulped. They had hoped the story would have been less difficult to explain than the vampires. “Yes, you tell it true,” Leanne chimed in, and at that point her father entered from the adjoining room where he’d tended to their guest. The Breton had some minor healing talents, both magical and mundane, and when the girls brought Ella to the manse, his paternal nature took over and he had seen to her immediately. Given that the girl had clearly been in the words with an open wound for some time, he expended his meager magicka on purifying the injury to stave off infection, then applied a tourniquet around her forearm.

“The girl is shaken, but she looks to be in good health otherwise,” he reported, wiping drops of blood from his hands.

Shani’s mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “If she has any family left, they must be beside themselves with worry. I wish I could help her get back to her kin, but I cannot spare anyone to go looking. Mikhael and Boros still haven’t returned from searching for Renoa, and they took our only mountain ponies with them.”

“So don’t spare anyone,” Shani said. “Let her stay. Once she’s rested, she can earn her keep on the farm.”

“Without Renoa, we’re down a pair of hands,” Leanne added. “And there are tasks that need to be done. You said it yourself, Madam.”

Ah’zuli looked between the servant and her daughter, then to Toren, as if seeking help. The man shrugged. “I should agree, my lady. The girls are right, another pair of hands can only help.”

She sighed, and conceded. “Alright. Tomorrow, we shall see if the girl has any useful talents. Give her an hour’s rest for now, then run her a bath. We should certainly have the fresh water to spare, since you decided to bathe in the river.” It was an accusation, not an acknowledgement, but it made Shani and Leanne tense all the same. They had returned wrapped in towels and with wet hair, and it was all they could do to avoid their mother seeing them–but Gro’shuba had passed them outside, and Toren was in the hall when they snuck in. He must have told her, Shani knew. “Well?” Her mother looked at them, demanding an explanation.

“It’s peaceful there,” Leanne said. “And there’s plenty more room for two people to bathe than in a tub.”

“Yes, it certainly is peaceful under normal circumstances,” Ah’zuli said. “But just yesterday we had those Ash’abah speaking of dead things that walk, and now I am hearing about the iron orcs raiding villages. This coming winter seems intent on bringing ample danger with it, and I do not like the idea of my daughter far out in the woods, with gods know what lurking out there.”

“Mother, please. It is only as you said: I have Father’s spirit.”

Ah’zuli looked at her daughter. Something in Shani’s face must have touched her, because she did not forbid them from going to the river, as Shani feared she might. “Until further notice, no one is to go beyond the garden alone. Continue practicing your dances, but focus on the martial ones… and the next time your father’s ghost compels you on some adventure, borrow some of his sense and bring a sword.”

Ella’s integration into the household went rather smoothly. The next few days, she tended to the tasks available without any difficulty, and soon Ah’zuli seemed thankful for her presence. Before long, her timidity was cast away, and she was cordial to everyone who crossed paths with her. She only attempted to socialize with Leanne and Shaniera, it seemed, but they hardly could complain. She proved to be good company, and she was just a few years older than they were, it turned out.

On the third night since they’d taken Ella in, a knock came at Shaniera’s door. Leanne stood outside with a book under one arm and a candle in the other. Ella had the look of a guilty child on her face.

“The girl woke me,” Leanne explained. “Nightmares. We’re joining you for the night.”

Shani looked at the book they’d picked up from the manse’s library. “These are horror stories, Leanne!”

“She picked them, I swear it.” Ella didn’t seem bothered by the stories, not even the one about the blood-sucking monster locked in a coffin. They read the book together late into the morning, until the candle burned out, and after that they fell asleep packed tightly in Shaniera’s bed. She wanted to kiss Leanne, and wasn’t sure why Leanne didn’t seem to want to as well. They weren’t alone, to be sure, but the other girl had already seen just about everything, and she felt rather comfortable around Ella… more than Leanne did, it seemed.

The next morning, the Ash’abah returned. A lattice of rope had been tied between two horses, fastened to the carcass of a dead pony that they dragged behind them. The creature’s head was completely gone, torn halfway up the neck, and what remained of its throat hanging from the ruptured flesh was desiccated. The one-eyed leader Xadoran rode his horse up to the garden’s low wall and waved, and waited until someone came out to see him. He said he needed to speak with Ah’zuli, and would come to her if she desired, but wanted to respect her wishes for he and his people to stay out of the garden. Ah’zuli came to him irritable and tired, demanding why they had returned, and then she saw the dead pony they had dragged with them. It was one of the mountain ponies that Mikhael and Boros took with them when the left to search the mountains for Renoa. Without so much as a word, Xadoran tossed a piece of jewelry at her feet. Shaniera approached as her mother picked it up, and saw the red ruby on the gold chain. The gold had been stained with blood.

Chapter V. “Dancing”

Shaniera moved to the rhythm of memory. She and Renoa would have done this together, as they had for so long, one practicing movements while the other would play the drums. It was the music of Yokudan fury, a proud heritage of conquest. It was the tune to which songs were sang of how an entire people fled a doomed continent, and carved out a new home with steel and fire upon the foreign shores on which they landed. Now, with one less relative at home, she felt even more distant from that great past. She danced alone in the blue room, the drums sitting silent in the corner, playing only in her head.

When the drums stopped, she stood frozen between two stances, and then cast aside the wooden sword. The clanging echoed through the house, the sounds of everyone else dispersed and distant. Shaniera looked to her father’s sword displayed above the mantlepiece, a long and slender blade of silver. He had once told her that the weapon was blessed by a witch, and its blade would sear the flesh of monsters from other realms, the magic compelling them to flee the mortal plane. She practiced with it very rarely, knowing it was a legacy that would always be out of reach, even if the sword itself was just low enough to grab. She thought of taking it down now, hoping that it might bring her closer to her father’s grace. She still had one cousin in this palace, somewhere, and he might be willing to spar with live steel. Unlike Renoa, Blane came from Ah’zuli’s side of the family, and he had spent an apprenticeship in Daggerfall, bringing back with him the fighting styles of Breton knights. It might do her good to practice against a different form.

She turned to leave and search for him, but the entryway was not empty anymore. Ella looked cowed peaking from beyond the wall, and when Shaniera sighted her, she held up her hands as if in surrender.

“Sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” The girl’s manners had been stellar since her arrival, clearly grateful for the refuge they had granted her.

“Don’t apologize. Is there something you needed?”

“No, I was just wondering if you were busy. I don’t want to disturb your training.” She stepped away.

“You disturb me none. Come join me, Ella.”

“Are you certain?”

“I insist.”

She stepped inside. Ella was wearing a brown frock and cowhide shoes. Her hair had a bit of shine to it from a few days without being washed, and it hung over her shoulders as straight and pointed as grass. It was nothing like the hair of a Redguard, except in its color, black as jet. Shaniera only knew one fair-skinned person with hair so dark, and it was Mikhael. He and Boros still had not returned, and after the Ash’abah had appeared with the carcass of one of their ponies and Renoa’s blood-stained necklace, everyone feared the worst. Shaniera did not want to think what fate might have befallen them.

“Do you play?” Ella’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. She was looking at drums in the corner.

“Yes,” Shaniera said. “Renoa and I would play for one another when we trained.”

“Renoa…” Ella’s eyes were cast down. “Is she the one who’s missing?”

“Yes.” Shaniera and her mother hadn’t spoken about it yet. She wasn’t sure if they would. “I worry, but I am sure she’s alive, somewhere. She’s a skilled fighter, and it was a bloodied necklace they found, not her sword.”

“I hope she’s okay, too…” Ella looked at the sword on the floor. “Would you mind teaching me some technique? Just something basic, so I might be able to defend myself.”

“I would not mind at all, Ella.” Shaniera rather liked the idea. She had pitied the poor girl ever since her appearance. The thought of Ella out alone with who knew what out there was a disturbing one. Shaniera could pick up a fallen branch and wield it with some proficiency, so she was never truly defenseless out in the woods, but someone without any martial training would be easy prey, even if they were armed. She picked up the training weapon and handed it to Ella. The girl held it like she had no idea what it was.

“The first thing you should learn is your guard,” Shaniera said. “Hold it like this, with both hands.” She maneuvered Ella’s hands into place on the hilt.

“It’s heavy,” Ella remarked. “At least for wood.”

“Real steel is even heavier. You will grow accustomed to the weight as you practice. Now, spread your legs and squat down a little, like this.”

Ella tried to match her, but her footing was way off, and she hunched over her weapon instead of lowering with a straight back. “I don’t think I’m doing it right…” she looked at Shaniera, sheepish.

Leanne would roll her eyes and tell her to straighten up, Shaniera thought. She was not Leanne, and she walked behind Ella and put her hands on her shoulders.

“Keep your back straight… yes, like that, very good. Now, twist your hips a little.” She put her hands on Ella’s waist. “I’ll lower myself into the stance, and you follow.” Ella pressed herself against Shaniera as she matched her footing.

“Did you and Renoa ever train so… intimately?” Ella said, her voice suddenly calm.

“Intimately?” Shaniera blinked. “I suppose? She was my cousin.”

“So, no.”

She didn’t understand right away what Ella was getting at, and when she did, an anxious rush filled her stomach. Is she flirting with me? She moved away. “Alright, in that stance you are ready to move yourself or your sword into many other positions,” she explained, recovering her composure. “The idea of fighting like dancing is to move with little effort, keep yourself unburdened and shielded, and strike fast and hard.”

“Okay… and how do I strike like that?” The wooden sword in Ella’s hands was carved like a scimitar, with a blade short and wide. The hilt was longer for beginners; true scimitars are rarely meant to be wielded with both hands., though plenty long ones existed, the bastard swords of Hammerfell. The one on the wall resembled a falchion more than a scimitar, so Shaniera trained with different practice swords so that she might be able to wield any from her homeland. She fetched one now.

“Like this.” Shaniera went into the stance she had helped Ella into, and swung swift across. She held the guard at the end of the attack. “Now, you try.”

Ella slashed at the air in front of her. The sword made no sound with the air.

“Harder than that. Imagine you have a vampire in front of you.”

The next swing was far more vicious. Ella’s face lit up. “Did you hear that? It made a swish.”

“Yes, that’s good! It means you can cut air. That’s half of a swing against a real target, so you’re halfway to fighting already.”

With a giggle, Ella strode to Shaniera’s side and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I think I have much further to go, but thank you for your sweet words, princess.”

Shani sought words she didn’t have. She sure is affectionate. The sensation of Ella’s kiss on her face wasn’t like that of a mother’s or cousin’s; it left her with a warm thrill racing through her. No one inspired this kind of excitement but Leanne. Leanne… she wished Leanne were here.

As if on cue, the echoes of footsteps came drifting in from a couple rooms away. Shaniera could name most of the household by the sound of their walk alone. “Leanne?” She called out, and the footsteps ceased.

“Shaniera?” It was her. “Have you seen Ella?”

“In here.” She saw guilt written on Ella’s face as Leanne came marching towards them, and she grinned. “What did you do?”

As Ella struggled for an answer, Leanne came into the dancing room lugging a basket full of clothes. “I thought you were going to help fold these,” she grumbled. Looking between the both of them so close together, one could practically see the topic of laundry flee from her mind. She set the basket down and put her hands on her hips. “Apologies, am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Shaniera told her. “I was actually hoping you would join us. Ella has asked for a lesson in swordplay.”

“I see. Well, while you were playing with swords, the rest of us have been getting ready for the prince’s arrival.”

“Join us for a spar, and we can all fold laundry together afterwards.”

Leanne didn’t take long to consider the offer. The sword she grabbed from the rack was styled like a shortsword, straight and with as much reach as the scimitars.

“Ella,” Shaniera said. “You may want to sit out for the first bout. Watch and learn. Tell me, do you play the drums?”

“Uh…” Ella glanced at Renoa’s drums in the corner. “Gods be good, I couldn’t fill your cousin’s place.”

“I am not asking you to do that, only to play a rhythm on the drums. Could you do that?”

“I will try, my lady.” She took the drums from their resting place and sat nearby, standing them up in her lap. She began with a tapping of her toe on the floor, then lightly slapping away the rhythm, dun–dun–dundundun, dun–dun–dundundun…

Shaniera turned to Leanne and flourished her sword. “Let’s see how much you remember. I know you missed learning from me.”

“More than from Renoa. Your cousin’s drills were sadistic.”

“Oh, I’ll make her look like the nice one, once I’m through with you.” She thought she saw Leanne blush, and that was her cue to strike. The room filled with echoes of wooden blades clacking together. Ella beat the drums harder to overtake the noise. Shaniera drove her friend back until they were almost against the wall, and Leanne dove under a head-high slash to reposition herself, but Shaniera’s foot tripped her forward. “So far, I am disappointed.”

Leanne flew to her feet, face red as fire, and her sword came up just as hot. Shaniera couldn’t quite parry it, and only managed a block before she had to contend with another attack from the opposite side. Leanne had found her form, and continued to press the attack, forcing Shaniera to retreat to the side before it was her pinned against the wall. She retaliated, and Leanne parried and came back. Shaniera raised a bit too high to block, and a sharp pain shocked through her fingers.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” Leanne’s eyes were huge with worry.

“Shaniera, are you alright?” Ella’s drumming had paused. “That must have hurt.”

Shaniera stood ramrod straight, inhaling deeply, and only said “ow”. Her retaliation caught Leanne off guard, who only managed a hasty block as her opponent sidestepped her to deliver a stinging swat with the flat of the blade. Leanne yelped and leapt away, rubbing her bottom with her free hand.

“Payback for the river,” Shaniera said with a dastardly smile.

“Okay, fair enough.” Leanne straightened up, returning the grin. “One more go?”

“With pleasure, my queen.” The dance that followed had fewer moves than the previous, and in short order they had locked both blades and gazes in a standstill. Leanne had more strength in her arms than Shaniera, and she relinquished the sword with one hand to grab her by the wrist.

“Now you are merely cheating,” Shani gasped as she strained against her.

“I am merely winning, princess.”

“Is that so?” Shaniera dove forward, planting a kiss on her lips. Stunned and flushed, Leanne was easily thrown to the floor. Shaniera held the sword close over her throat as she straddled her waist. “Looks like I win again.”

Leanne snorted, and discarded her sword. “Indeed, princess. I suppose you may claim your prize.”

“My prize? And what might that be?”

“Why, me, of course.” Leanne moved her hands to the front of her shirt, untying the first of the knotted lace. “To the victor goes the spoils, now spoil me as you wish. Ravage me to your heart’s content. I am at your mercy.”

Shaniera was mortified. “Uh…” was all her brain could manage, and the next moment it was she who lay on her back. Leanne pinned her arms to either side of her head, panting and grinning.

“Looks like I win this time,” she breathed.

“Very well. I shall give you this one,” Shaniera conceded, breathless and still rather flushed from the lascivious remarks. The drums had slowed below the pace of her heart, and she looked to Ella, somewhat disquieted that the girl had continued playing. In fact, Ella did not seem embarrassed at all by what she witnessed. Those lovely golden eyes were locked firmly on them, and on her. She shifted beneath Leanne, who got up and hoisted her to her feet. The drums finally stopped.

“Is it my turn to spar?” Ella asked.

“Depends,” Leanne replied first. “Are you any good?”

“I don’t believe she’s held a real sword before,” Shaniera said. “Ella, you might want to practice a bit more before you spar.”

“Yeah. We don’t want to hurt you, you know.”

Ella thought on it a moment. “Perhaps you have a helmet I could wear?”

“None that wouldn’t be missed.” An idea played across Shaniera’s mind which she couldn’t help but giggle at. “But I think we certainly have some spare pots lying around in the kitchen. What do you think, Leanne?”

“What? We play at swords with pots on our heads like when we were children?”

“That isn’t a ‘no’.”

Leanne’s face seemed to glow with the nostalgic smile. “You’re right, it isn’t.”

After they had raided the kitchen for the improvised equipment, the ensuing three-woman duel began as a ranging of skills and adherence to proper form that quickly dissolved into a circus of high laughter and sloppy pokes and swings. The sounds of wood clanging on iron echoed through the halls beyond. Shaniera managed a few more good swings at Leanne’s backside, shouting “penitence!” each time her strike landed, and Leanne would cackle and call her some silly words that none of them quite knew the meanings of, and like a shadow Ella would strike at Shaniera the same. They often had only one hand on their weapons, having to keep the pot lids from falling over their eyes with the other. Each time one girl would focus attention on another, the third would seize her opportunity to poke one of the others.

“What is going on here?” Ah’zuli’s voice broke through the laughter, and all went silent in an instant.

“Mother,” Shaniera gasped, staring up from the floor. Ella had toppled over her, and had frozen still in middle of trying to climb off. “We were just–”

“Playing children’s games? Wasting time? Putting dents and scratches in our pots? Please, do tell me what it is you would call this absurd behavior.”

“Having fun.”

“Goodness me, what fun you all are having. So much fun that surely the whole of these mountains must hear it.” Her eyes flicked up from her daughter to the girl on top of her. “You have been a great help since you came to us, but if you desire to be a distraction to my daughter, I will not stand for it.”

“Mother, please, it was our idea.”

“Oh, I am sure.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were cast in dark circles. “Just clean this up, and if you are done with your dancing practice, perhaps you might help them fold this laundry.”

Shaniera had never seen her mother looking so tired. “Mother, are you alright?”

Her eyes flared. “I am perfectly fine, Shaniera, and will continue to be so long as you remember your duties. Ella.”

“Yes, Madam?” Ella stuttered.

“Get off of my daughter already.” She left without waiting to see the command obeyed.

Chapter VI. “Obedience”

The prince arrived with little fanfare. He had four men in total with him, all great burly Redguards wearing the crest of Sentinel on their cloaks. The prince himself had the half-moon symbol sewn onto the breast of a red silk doublet with golden fringe. His face was cleanly shaven, his hair done in thick ropes which he had tied back. That was how father wore his hair, Shaniera thought when she first saw him. She wondered if someone had told him that.

The prince dismounted from a beautiful white horse, and strode over to the last of the al-Farúk family: Shaniera, her mother Ah’zuli, her uncle Barentho, her aunt and cousins. Shaniera gave her cousin Blane a look that begged saving. He could only offer a sympathetic smile, but it was better than nothing.

“Welcome, prince Khara,” Shani’s mother said, bowing. “We have been looking forward to your arrival.”

“As have I, my lady,” the prince responded, taking her hand and kissing her on the knuckle. “I am thrilled to finally meet the lady Shaniera.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my prince,” Shaniera recited, and bowed. She held out her hand and let him kiss it. His lips were soft, and she felt the residue of some balm left on her skin.

“The pleasure is all mine, dear.” He turned to her mother, placing a clenched fist over his heart in salute and bowing his head. How much bowing must one welcome require? Shani thought. “My lady,” the prince said, “I know we have much to discuss, but if you will excuse me, I would like to spend some time with the princess, so that we may know one another firsthand.” He’s already calling me princess. Only Leanne ever called her princess. If only she were a prince.

“I think that is a splendid idea,” her mother said. “Perhaps my daughter can walk you through the gardens.”

“I was just thinking that, my lady. The commoners of the nearby villages speak wonders of your lands here.”

“Mostly embellishment, I’m sure, but they are indeed our pride and joy here at the Farúk estate.”

“They spoke just as highly of your beauty, and I see that even their words were humble compared to the truth. I’m sure the gardens are everything the legends say and more.” He turned to Shaniera and held out a hand. “Shall we, my lady?”

You should make up your mind as to whom your ‘lady’ is, she wanted to say. Instead, she returned his smile, and held out her arm.

“We shall.”

The first thing the prince said to her was to remark on how her family must really like pumpkins.

“We do, but Toren makes a divine pumpkin pie,” Shaniera explained.

“I see. Toren is your cook?”

“No, he’s a general servant, but he does like to cook. He’s a good teacher, too, but Leanne could never listen. She likes to reap the crops and work the grind wheel, but she stops short of actually preparing the final meal.”

“And Leanne is…”

“His daughter.” Shani kept her voice cold and detached. “Another servant. She is a friend of mine.”

“Ah, your personal handmaiden?”

“Yes, actually.” She allowed herself a bit of hope. Perhaps he would allow Leanne to come with them… perhaps he would allow even more. She continued to indulge him with whatever stories came to mind, whatever might make her seem charming. The whole time she wished she were with Leanne.

“Enough about your servants, my lady,” he said, kindly enough. “I wish to hear about you.”

“There’s not much to hear. I dance, with and without a sword, for one. I like reading about myths and fables, but I also study history and religion, mostly of old Yokuda. Can you speak Yoku, Prince Khara?”

“Only a few words. You must teach me sometime. And please, you may call me Khara.” He placed his free hand on the hilt of the sword at his side. “I could teach you some sword-dancing in return.”

“I would enjoy that.” I would enjoy knocking you on your butt. She struggled to think of something more to say, to break the lull. “I also like to swim as well.”

Khara seemed suddenly much more interested. “Oh? You have a lake nearby? You must show me, I can only imagine how beautiful it must be.”

Shit. Why did I have to mention swimming? She couldn’t deny him, lest she wanted his suspicion. “The way is a bit far, my pr–Khara. You must be weary from the travel.”

“If anything, I am restless and overheated from travel.” He detached himself from her, and stretched his arms out. “I should love a good swim.”

There was no backing out now; she had to proceed with humoring this man. “Very well. Follow me.” She took him out from the main garden and into the forest, stepping off the trail much later than she normally would have, and leading him in jagged paths that stretched the journey nearly threefold its usual length. She knew where she was at all times, but the prince seemed in doubt of that, even offering twice to lead himself. She reassured him, with all the firmness she dared, that she knew her own land best, and he went silent at that. After a long stretch through some especially thick brush, the prince drew his sword and began hacking here and there, as if he were trudging through jungle. Now I understand the Bosmer of Valenwood a little better, she thought. These are my trees. I should forbid him from disrespecting my home.

Finally, when she knew she could keep up the game no longer, she led them to the clearing by the riverside. Khara had muttered curses the whole way through, and his hair was speckled with tiny shards of leaf and bark, but when he emerged to the sight of the river he wiped his forehead and just like that he had donned the mask again. With a smile that could have been described as chivalrous, he strode over towards the shore.

“This must be a secret place, with such a journey needed to find it. It is certainly serene.” He turned to her and bowed again. “I am honored that you chose to share this secret with me, my lady.”

“Did I have a choice?” She smiled, if at least for deniability.

He only answered with a wink. What is it that he wants? She had to wonder. She had only ever really flirted with Leanne, so she could accept that she would be unaccustomed to how others went about it… but if this was how most boys did it, she wasn’t sure if she would ever want any of it.

“I should warn you, it isn’t only my secret,” she told him, approaching the river but not nearing him.

“Oh? Should I worry that your mother might spy on us?” He sauntered over to her.

“No.” She turned away from his hand before he could grasp her arm. “Some of the serving girls come here too.”

“I imagine that’s a pretty sight. You should be careful to guard that secret, then.”

On that much we can agree. “In that case, can I count on your discretion?”

“I shall take this knowledge to my grave.”

“Good. Perhaps you’re alright after all.”

“Just alright, my lady?” He moved in close, brushing a lock of hair from her eye. She could smell the perfume on his breath. It was far too strong, reeking of a dozen scents that she couldn’t place the source of. She tried to focus herself. He is my duty. He was handsome enough, she supposed. He had full lips, a smooth curve to his nose, a little beauty mark on his chin. She tried to imagine disrobing him as she had Leanne days ago, letting him do the same in kind. She thought of the two of them swimming together, imagined what it would be like for him to put his hands on her, and in it all she felt nothing but a stiffness in her neck and a wish to be anywhere else. She thought back to how Leanne had spanked her for the cruel joke she’d played, and imagined Khara punishing her similarly. She would gladly let Leanne do it again, but could not stomach the thought of him being in her place, feeling humiliated and stripped of all humanity at the prospect alone. I cannot love him, she realized. I don’t know if I could love any man.

“My princess, listen to me. A life with me means many things. You will want for nothing, and have your name alongside mine in the annals of history. Our children will be diplomats, ambassadors, mages, all manner of great people. I am so much more than ‘alright’.” He pressed against her, and she wanted to recoil but found herself frozen in place, and he had her by the arms besides. “And you shall have a strong husband to warm your bed at night.” He leaned in, and Shaniera only closed her eyes because she did not want to look. His lips were soft and warm, like caterpillars trying to worm their way into her mouth. She did not return the kiss, and when she opened her eyes she saw the face of a man spurned.

“You are nervous, my princess,” he whispered. His hand guided hers down to his breeches. “Let me show you what I can give you. You need only follow my lead.” His fingers moved hers around the bulge in the cloth, and beneath she felt the stiffness of his cock. She reacted, squeezing hard, and Khara winced. His grip around her arm locked down tight. “No, don’t do that. Here, like this.” He began to force her hand into motion.

“Prince! I think I might be of assistance.” It was Ella’s voice, Shani realized, to her relief. The girl skipped over to them from the trees, wearing a brown smock and a polite smile. It did little to ease the prince, however, who pulled away from Shani to draw his sword halfway from its jewel-encrusted scabbard.

“Away with you,” Khara commanded the approaching nymph. “The princess and I are having a private affair.”

“Pardon me, my prince, but she isn’t your princess. Not yet, at least.”

The hand on his sword tightened. “She has promised herself to me all the same.”

“Well, pardon me once more, but–”

“Must I pardon everything you say?”

“–are you not here with her now to win her favor? It would seem that you have encountered some difficulties.”

Khara scoffed, but at least he sheathed his blade. “What would a servant know of the courting of royals? I suppose you’re the Leanne I’ve heard so much about.”

“No. I am called Ella, if it please milord.” She curtsied.

“Tell me then, Ella, how you think that you might be of service.”

Ella’s smile was nothing but sweet and innocent. “With all due respect, prince…”

“Khara,” Shani said.

“It remains Prince Khara to you, girl,” added the prince.

“With all due respect, Prince Khara, you are going about it the wrong way. I am sure that those who have enjoyed your company before were swooned by your taking charge–such is natural for royalty as yourself–but Shani here needs balanced treatment. You must give her little kindnesses, worship her one moment and command her the next, and ultimately let her come to you.”

“How should you know what she needs in this regard?”

Ella raised an eyebrow and smirked, as if the answer was plainly obvious. “When a woman is coming into her own, she has curiosities just as a man does. As her loyal servant and trusted friend, it was my honor and pleasure to explore those curious desires with her.”

“I was under the impression she was a virgin,” Khara mumbled.

“And you are? I’m sure you’ve had your fun with serving girls in your palace, or the comely boys you play at swords with.”

“My affairs are my own business,” he said, a hint of blush in his face. “And playing at kissing is different from the realities of pleasure or romance.”

“On that, I must agree.” Ella approached them slowly. “Which is why I must suggest that Shani be given a demonstration, to understand the roles of husband and wife.”

“I would be glad to give her that demonstration, if you would kindly give us the privacy…”

“A demonstration where she does not participate, my prince. I have much more experience than Shani does, so I should be well qualified to set an example for her.” The girl gave Shaniera a wink. She responded by mouthing, what are you doing?

The prince thought on the proposition for a moment. His gaze ran up and down the girl, assessing her the way one might a shop’s inventory. When his eyes leveled with Ella’s, there it was again, that hunger in those amber irises. It seemed to float through the air, along her gaze and into his own eyes, filling them with a dark desire. He straightened up, turned to Shaniera, and bowed.

“My princess,” he spoke with a reserved dignity. “I have been rather aggressive in my approach today, and beg your apology. Indeed, my intentions are only to do best by you. It would seem your good friend Ella would help me show you how.”

Uncertain, Shaniera looked to Ella. The woman nodded, smiling in a way that reminded her of a drawing of an evil goblin she’d seen in a children’s book. She gulped, and then bowed her head to the prince. “You shall have the opportunity. I will watch your demonstration.” And may the gods protect her from whatever happens. Shaniera smoothed out her skirt, then sat on the dirt and leaves, to watch.

“A lover gives and takes,” Ella said. “Pleasure must be mutual.” She strode over to Khara, and kissed him on the cheek, then on the neck, and lingered there very still, as if unable to pull back. The prince took the chance to lay his lips upon her neck, and stroke his hand over the small of her back, down her spine, and over the lump of her bottom. She lifted her head and pressed her lips to his face, moving up his chin until they glided over his mouth, and she kissed him as if she were drinking deeply of an oasis after thirsting in the desert. His hand squeezed her down low, bringing her closer to him. She stood on the tips of her toes, opening her mouth over his, and suddenly he seized up. He jerked back a second later, and a thin bead of blood dripped from his mouth. Ella grinned wide, licking the blood from her own lip, and Shani thought she might suffer an attack of anxiety until she saw the prince’s face filled with a mad desire. He was enjoying this, it seemed.

“I see you like to play rough,” Khara growled, wiping his chin. He approached again, grabbing the hair behind her neck and forcing her head back.

“Some do, my prince.” She side-eyed Shani. “You must learn what the other person wants, and how best to give it to them.”

“I wonder if the princess wishes she were in your place,” Khara said. Shaniera knew she wouldn’t wish this for anyone.

“When you learn what she wants, you will be able to give it to her.” Ella locked eyes with the prince. “Now, give it to me.”

With his other hand, Khara reached under the front of her smock and yanked it down to her waist. She held him by the waist as he groped at her breasts, bringing his mouth over one nipple while he pinched the other. Ella moaned, ground her body against his, and shoved a hand down the front of his pants and stroked. They went like that for a few moments more, until Ella pulled her hand up and went under his shirt. She undid button and lace, sliding the doublet from his shoulders, and Khara threw off his undershirt with a flourish. He flashed a grin at Shaniera, perhaps hoping his fairly well-muscled chest had caught her attention. Shani clamped a hand over mouth to cut short a laugh, but he seemed to take it as a good sign all the same. Let him think he is a charmer, she thought. She saw what was happening now. Khara was a fool, with more blood in his balls than his brain, and this whole thing was nothing more than a mummer’s show.

Ella lowered herself down to her knees. With her hands by his feet, she played at the laces of his breeches with her teeth. He and Shaniera both watched with curiosity. Ella seemed to have a talent for working ropes without her hands, because in half a minute she had the pants undone and was sliding them down with her teeth on the hem. She pulled the bottom of her dress up so that when her head had dragged his pants to his ankles, the dress slid down her back to expose her bare backside. Shaniera was sure she and Leanne had given the girl some underclothes, but evidently Ella wore nothing under the smock. Khara looked down at her greedily as she pivoted her hips back up. She kissed him on the thighs, moving up to his groin. He sucked in a breath as she kissed the base of his cock, and brought a hand up to stroke it while her tongue played with his testicles. She ran her tongue up the front, all the way to the tip, and brought her lips down over him, her mouth reaching no more than halfway down its length before she moved back up, then down again. Khara grabbed her hair and forced her down lower, and his body had to lean forward as his cock was forced down her throat. Ella seemed to handle it pretty well, but Shaniera was gagging at the sight.

When she finally rose from him, stickiness trailing from her lips, Khara tugged the smock down the rest of her, grabbed her by the hips, and lowered her onto her back. He pulled the pile of fabric off of her feet and spread them apart. Finally, something I’m familiar with, Shaniera thought, blushing as the true Leanne barged her way into her mind. She was glad that the prince did not see her face; she did not want him to think that blush was for him. She continued to distract herself with thoughts of her true love as Khara buried his head between Ella’s legs. He did not keep at it for as long as she had done for him, however, and soon he was on his knees, grabbing her and spinning her around on all fours. He guided himself inside of her and began to thrust his hips back and forth, in and out. Ella groaned pleasurably at first, but quickly her noise dropped, until eventually she was silent. She turned her head to look at Shaniera. She didn’t seem bothered by any of this. She volunteered herself to him in my place, Shani reflected, thinking at first this was a noble sacrifice, a gift for her after all she and Leanne had done for this girl, a frightened stranger in the woods. But now it seemed more like a test of some sort, and someone was failing miserably. If anything, Ella looked disappointed, bored even.

The prince gritted his teeth and pumped into her a few more times, long and painful-looking thrusts, and then he seized up, and Shaniera realized he was emptying himself. When he was done he slid out of her and reclined to the side, his manhood limp and wet. There was nothing in the air but sweat and ragged breathing, and the faint rush of the river.

“You didn’t finish.” Ella spoke with venom in her voice.

Khara didn’t seem to notice. “I beg to differ, wench. When a man fills up your cunt, he’s finished.”

“You had your climax, yes.” She rose, and the prince’s seed dripped from her loins. “What about mine?”

He looked up at the naked woman standing over him. “What about yours?”

Her foot flew at his face, knocking him in the chin with such force that his head snapped back. He blinked, stunned, then tried to rise, reaching for his sword–but she was between him and his weapon, and put him back down with another swift kick to his head. He scrambled back and managed to get to his feet, took half a step, and fell on his face. It wasn’t the pants around his ankles; the laces of his boots had been tied together. Shani might have laughed at that if she weren’t horrified beyond measure. Ella kept advancing on him, stooping to pick up his shirt. Wetness slid down her legs as she walked, sweat and semen and her own essence. Her hair stuck to her face, just like the day they had first met her, but the timid woman from the river was gone. There was only the hunger and the fury.

“You fucking cunt, I’ll have your head for thi–” his voice stopped in his throat, trapped by Ella’s hand. Shani screamed at her to stop, but she only seemed to squeeze his neck tighter. Khara swung an arm down into her elbow, knocking her arm from the grip, and followed up with a punch to the face that sent her reeling back. He held the upper hand for all of a second, and then Ella darted around him, moving faster than Shani had ever seen anyone move. She forced him back down, spun him onto his stomach, and pulled his arms behind his back.

“Ella! You must stop this!” Shani found her footing and was running towards them. When she got close, Ella had taken the yarn from the prince’s hair and used it to bind his arms behind his back. She flipped him back up, then stuffed the shirt into his mouth.

“Now, let’s continue our lesson.” Ella straddled his neck, facing his feet, and laid a vicious slap between the man’s legs. He screamed in anger and pain through his gag as his legs recoiled. “Firstly, a lesson for you, my dear Shani. You should know that when someone comes–or ‘finishes’ as he likes to put it–their parts are incredibly sensitive for a short time.” To demonstrate, she wrapped her fingers around the prince’s testicles and jerked his flaccid cock vigorously. Khara screamed and writhed under her. She sat back, pressing her naked backside full over his face. “Now, a lesson for you, little prince. Are you listening?” The answer was a fit of muffled grunts, and apparently not what she wanted. She squeezed his balls and drove a fist onto his abdomen. “You don’t need to speak to answer me, you witless craven. Just nod your head.” A second later she smiled. “Excellent. Now, Khara, you are supposed to marry my dear friend Shaniera, and that entails many manly responsibilities on your part. Chief among those duties is her pleasure, understand? Hers, not yours. So…” she leapt off, and threw the boy onto his stomach. “When I give you a test like this one, and you fill me with your muck and then tell me that you’re ‘finished’, do you know what that tells me?” She walked off, grabbed a stick from the grass, and came back to plant a foot on Khara’s back as he tried to squirm away.

“It tells me that you only care about your own pleasure.” As she spoke, she rained down savage lashes on his bottom, the stick cracking loudly through the air with every stroke. “And such a man will neglect his husbandly duties, which makes him an unworthy husband for a lady such as Shaniera. I will not have that, do you understand me?” The stick snapped in two. Khara’s bottom was painted in red lines, and the prince was whimpering through tears, but he nodded all the same.

“Good,” Ella said. “Learn from this lesson, Khara, and you might one day be worthy of Shaniera.” She untied his arms, then went and fetched his sword. Drawing the blade from its scabbard, she ran the edge across her wrist, and painted the steel in her blood. “When you have composed yourself, you will tell your guards and Madam al-Farúk about the wild animal you and Shaniera happened upon in the woods. The poor thing was starving, driven to madness, but you were brave and your sword was sharp, so you defended your princess, and took a beating yourself.” She righted him with a nudge from her foot, and dangled the sword precariously over his manhood. “Should you breathe a word of what transpired here, I cannot guarantee that the beast will not return, and take a much larger bite out of you.” And with that she dropped the sword beside him. Khara laid there, fighting back tears, trying to save what little may have remained of his shattered dignity. Ella picked her smock up from the ground, pulled it down over her head, and took Shaniera by the arm. “Come now, princess. Let’s leave the prince to think on his lesson.”

Shaniera let the girl lead her along into the forest. When she was sure that Khara could no longer hear them, she finally spoke up.

“You’re a lot stronger than I thought.”

Ella huffed. “I’ve dealt with far worse than the likes of him.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No. He may be sore for a day or two, but no permanent damage.”

“I meant for myself. Or Leanne.”

“Shaniera. I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

She didn’t. A part of her was uncertain about everything that just happened. This outrageous display–noble as it was for Ella to intervene on her behalf–put her whole family at risk. If Khara wasn’t intimidated enough to keep his silence, it would mean the possibility of Sentinel declaring the Farúk estate as an enemy. Ella’s nature was far too unpredictable… and so Shaniera knew she would have to test Ella’s claim. Grabbing her by the arm, she shoved Ella against a tree. The girl blinked, surprised at first, and then she smiled.

“Did my demonstration get you worked up, princess?”

“Perhaps it did.” Shaniera yanked the smock up and thrust a hand under the hem. She was beginning to understand what it is that Ella wanted. A week, a day, even an hour ago, she wouldn’t have been certain that she could give that, but something possessed her, a dark force she did not recognize. “Perhaps you should stop calling me ‘princess’, or you will pay for it dearly.” Ella squirmed and moaned when the fingers went inside her.

“Of course, princess.”

Shaniera slapped her. Ella’s head snapped into the tree, but her face held nothing of pain, only excitement. Shaniera slid her fingers in deeper, fucking her against the tree until she was whimpering earnestly, going faster and faster, and then she stopped. Ella’s stare was almost fearful, desperate.

“Please,” she whispered.

Shaniera planted a hand over her throat. “Your selflessness back there merits reward, but the carelessness of it demands punishment. I want to know that you won’t be causing any trouble for us from here on out. Understand?” Ella nodded. Shaniera pinched hard on the tip of her clitoris. “Swear to me that you will obey,” she demanded.

“I swear,” Ella gasped, wincing. “I will obey you. I am yours.” When Shaniera took her hand away, she looked as if she might cry, and when the hand returned she made a face as if she were, only joyfully. Her climax came roiling up out of her, and she jerked forward to plant her lips on Shaniera’s. She didn’t fight the screaming kiss, and even after Ella’s body settled, she found herself continuing, kissing her softly as she had kissed Leanne. When she broke away, she wondered why she didn’t feel any guilt. Because this has changed nothing, she concluded. My feelings for her are the same.

She wondered what Leanne would make of this story.

Chapter VII. “Buried”

“I’ll kill him,” Leanne said, already on her feet. “I’ll cut his fucking eyes out and shove his balls in the sockets.”

“No! Leanne, it’s okay–”

“How? How is any of this okay, Shani? He thinks that he can just come here and put his hands on you like that? Someone has to teach that boy some fucking decency…”

“Someone already has. She stopped him from going any further.”

Leanne stopped, suddenly understanding. “Ella.”

Shaniera told her the rest of the story. When they had returned from their trek in the woods, the prince was nowhere near the state he’d left the manse in. Bruises, a stiff gait, and a bloody lip all begged questions, but the prince waived them all away. “A wolf,” he’d said, showing off his bloody blade. It had approached them on the trail, lone and starving, and tried to lunge for Shaniera, but the prince stepped in and slew it. It had given him a beating, but he claimed it was nothing that merited any special attention. Toren insisted that he examine the prince’s wounds, but the boy was adamant until Toren finally gave up trying. Leanne took one look at Shaniera, and knew instantly that the story was a farce. Now they were in Shani’s room–a place of many fond memories, though this one was sure to be sour.

“It’s a good thing she was there, then,” Leanne said. “What would you have done if she hadn’t shown up?”

“I… don’t know.”

“So, what? You would just let him do whatever he wanted to you?”

The clouds blocked the sun, and the room grew dimmer. Shani rose, her wet eyes wide open.

“What do you mean ‘let him’, Leanne?”

“What do you think I mean? It sounds to me that he put his hands on you, and you didn’t want it, but you did nothing to stop him.”

“I panicked. What was I supposed to do?”

“Fight back!”

“I wanted to,” Shani yelled, her hands balled into shaking fists. “I wanted to stick a knife right in his heart, right then and there, but I was scared, and I knew that my mother wouldn’t understand. She would never forgive me if I ruined this, all that she’s prepared, all for me.” She stepped forward, into the thin shaft of light coming down from the stained-glass window, her face a dark wraith under a dying glow of gold. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

“I do understand,” Leanne started, and would have continued had words not escaped her. It felt like a spear had driven itself straight through her, pinning her in place. The regret wasted no time in making its appearance, filling her blood and clogging her veins.

“No, you don’t!” Shani shoved her to the floor. “You look at me, and all you see is your little princess, young and naïve and helpless and stupid. But I am not so naïve anymore, Leanne. There are things that are being asked of me, and if I do not do them, my family will fall to ruin, don’t you understand that?” The tears spilled over, but Shani’s face was wrought in stone, a fixture of anger and pain. “That whole time, I only thought of you. I was selfish, I’ll admit, and I’m sorry I didn’t give a consideration to what you might have wanted me to do. All I knew was that if I pleased him, he might grant me whatever I requested, including letting you live with us when we wed.”

Leanne sat dumbfounded. “What?” Shani demanded. “Nothing to say?” When nothing came, her princess slackened her shoulders and turned away from her. “Get out.”

The room had gone cold. Leanne fought a wave of vertigo; a pit seemed to open up beneath her, and one misstep would send her plummeting forever. “Shaniera… please…”

“Get. Out. Now.” Shani walked gracefully towards the window. Dignity was everything in this house. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Leanne rose on trembling legs, and staggered out of the room. She turned back slowly, just enough to catch Shani marching towards the door before it slammed shut. Alone in the hall, she took a few steps, slumped against the wall, and gave in to the regret. The interweaving colors of the tapestried carpet blended together in nauseating swirls as the tears took over her vision. Why did I say that? She knew the truth: she was the stupid girl all along. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

She found Ella in the yard later, hanging dresses on a clothesline. There was a little discoloration in her cheek where a bruise had formed, but she seemed fine otherwise, if not a tad distant. Her head turned at Leanne’s approach, amber eyes soft and wide at the sight of her.

“Oh, no. What happened?” Ella dropped a white shift back into the hamper and met Leanne halfway, letting the girl fall into her arms. “Come on, let’s go sit down.” They sat behind the shed, where they had some privacy.

She couldn’t say when exactly it happened, but one moment she was explaining her argument with Shani, and the next she was wrapped in up in Ella. The kiss was unbounded, unabashed, and full of longing. She clung to the girl, just a few days ago a complete stranger, but since a trusted friend and confidant… to say the absolute least of it.

“I’m a terrible friend,” Leanne said after they broke away.

“No, you aren’t.” Ella sat with her back against the shed wall, stroking the hair of the girl resting her head on her lap. “You made a mistake, and said something you didn’t mean.”

“I want to take it back. I wish I could. It wasn’t her fault, I can’t blame her for not fighting back, no more than I could blame you for running from the vampires.”

Ella nodded. “We cannot blame the victim for the crime.” She tugged at a lock of black hair. “He grabbed my hair; I should not blame my own hair for being so long.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, either.”

“I thought you said she was your ‘friend’.” She chuckled. “That doesn’t sound like a commitment to me.”

Leanne sighed. She didn’t like to put a name on whatever they had. They had started as friends, and obviously they were much more now, but she didn’t have to say it… did she?

“Leanne, I should tell you that Shaniera and I had a… moment of our own as well, after the incident with Khara. She showed that she learned from my demonstration, and meant it as a punishment for doing something so drastic without her approval. But I believe it fair to say that she also meant it as a reward, for intervening on her behalf.”

She was silent. Shouldn’t I feel jealous? She wondered. She didn’t feel anything, really. It was as if the revelation was nothing she didn’t already expect. Had she expected it to happen this whole time? Something stirring between the three of them, no mere question of if, but a matter of when?

Ella continued. “I’ve known of people who had more than one love, and when the love is mutual between more than two, they might enter relationships with more than two. I’ve known groups of three, or four, or even five, who treat one another as if they were husband or wife. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Is it a custom among Redguards?” Leanne asked, smiling sadly.

“I’m afraid I don’t know. But we could certainly try, if you and Shaniera want to. Truth be told, my affections for the both of you have become very intimate since you took me in. I might even say that I…” her voice trailed off.

“You don’t have to say it,” Leanne said, sitting up. She knew the hardship; she had said it to Shaniera once, long ago, back when it meant something more innocent. She struggled to get that word out since. “I think I feel the same way.” She reached a hand up to stroke her own hair. It was almost past her shoulders now. The comment Ella had made about her hair brought something to the surface, something she’d put off for long enough now. “Ella, would you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

Leanne took out her dagger. It was freshly sharpened. “Are you any good at cutting hair?”

Ella smiled, and stood up. “Wait here,” she said. When she returned, she had a pail of water from the well and a fresh torch, when she stowed in the empty sconce on the wall of the shed. Leanne sat back against the wall, and Ella lowered herself onto her lap, knees on either side of Leanne’s hips. She took the dagger from her. “Tell me how you want it.”

Leanne guided her, and Ella cut away the strands with graceful efficiency. The whole while, Leanne let the sensation overwhelm her, the closeness of it all, Ella’s face right before hers, her body sat on top of her. She could reach out and touch her, stroke her thighs or feel the curve of her hips, but she didn’t. Ella’s breath tickled her face, and her heart fluttered in ways it had never done with someone else other than Shaniera. But Shaniera would never be replaced, she knew. Ella was a new addition, a piece to their puzzle, something to complete the both of them. And when Ella paused in her work, releasing a lock of hair to cup Leanne’s face, she felt no worry when the woman cutting her hair leaned in to kiss her. It was warm, soft and deep, nothing of longing.

“Done,” Ella said finally, rising to bring down the torch and pass it over. Leanne held the flame close by as she leaned over the bucket, seeing her dim reflection in the rest of the water. It was as she had hoped it would be; Ella had a talent. Her hair no longer hung down by her neck, but wasn’t cut so short as to be unworkable. Some hung over her forehead, stuck together in wet points like arrowheads. It looked rugged and beautiful at the same time, and she permitted herself to feel satisfied. She couldn’t wait for Shaniera to see. Shaniera. Leanne had an apology to make. That would come soon, she knew. She looked up to thank Ella. Infused with the rippling orange flame of the torchlight, her yellow eyes gleamed warmly.

Just as the second pair did, before they came flying forward from the dark.

Leanne grabbed Ella and threw them both to the side, spilling the pail of water everywhere. The black shape slammed into the wall of the shed with a splintering crash. Human hands bore unhuman long claws that thrashed at the wood, trying to free itself from the hole it had made. Leanne twisted over on an elbow, and held out the torch. In the light, she saw the creature for who it was.

She tried to say her name, but her voice would not come. Renoa’s richly dark skin had taken a sullen, saturated pallor. Her spine was crooked, her shoulders hunched over. Her face… it was as if the girl had aged a thousand years. Her skin was smooth, but her face had stretched long, her cheeks sunken and hollow, the bones protruding as if they might break the flesh wrapping around them. Her hair was shaggy and unkempt, her clothes torn to bloody shreds, with no sense of the woman beneath them, just a gaunt frame of dirt and scars. And the fangs… oh gods, they were sharp, the only part of her that shone brightly in the light…

“RUN,” Leanne’s voice finally came. They scrambled to their feet and took off, back through the garden, towards the light of home. Leanne looked back the thing that had been Renoa, bounding at them on all fours like a mad wolf. She had their speed fourfold, and soon her yellow eyes were close enough to see the popping veins in their whites, flaring with blood. She pounced, and Ella fell under her. Leanne nearly toppled over her own feet as she tried to stop, rushing back to the two. Ella screamed in fear as Renoa thrashed about with her claws, ripping up the tilled soil around her victim, as if trying to rip her head off but not knowing where to strike. Ella thrust the dagger in her side, over and over, but the monster would not relent. She drew up a hand as a claw came towards her face, and it tore through cloth and flesh to drench Ella’s eyes with her own blood, leaving her to flail blindly. Leanne came flying in, swinging the torch like a mace. The flaming head clocked Renoa right in the temple, throwing her from Ella.

“Stay back!” Leanne shouted, swinging the torch in wide arcs in front of her. “HELP! RODAR, HASAN, FATHER! BLANE! SHANIERA!” Ella joined in the call, screaming “VAMPIRE!” Renoa hissed at the flame, swiping at the torch. As the claws made another pass, Leanne felt a stabbing pain in her wrist, enough to break her focus and drop the torch as she clutched her bleeding arm. Renoa lunged out, seizing Leanne by the head with one clawed hand. She grabbed at the claws, digging into her skin, afraid they would scratch out her eyes. “Renoa, please, it’s me!” She tried to reason with whatever might have remained of the person from before, but it was for nothing. Renoa was gone, and this creature was out for blood. The vampire forced Leanne’s head to the side, leaving her neck wide open, and bared her fangs.

There was a steely-gray flash, and then the vampire was reeling, blood gushing from the side of its face. Leanne fell to the dirt, and looked up at her savior. Shaniera entered a fighting stance, her father’s sword in hand.

“Stay back,” the princess commanded. She moved with a blade-dancer’s form, using the blade’s length as an extension of her own reach, pushing her opponent back. The vampire screeched and clawed, trying to get past the blade’s reach, but finding no opening. Shani’s focus was as hard as the steel in her hands.

In the end, it was Ella that broke her focus. “More of them!” She screamed, and Leanne looked around, and saw them. They didn’t move like Renoa did, but as one came close to the torch on the ground, she saw that they were clearly dead men walking. Mikhael lumbered from one end of the garden, his fine clothes hanging in ruins from his decaying corpse. His sword was in hand, covered in dirt and dried blood. From the other end came Boros, much in the same fashion, the head of his prized Orcish battleaxe dragging behind him. The men who set out to find Renoa in the mountains had found her.

As Shani assessed the situation, Renoa barreled into her, knocking her down. Leanne was already running forward. Shielding her head and neck with her hands, she threw herself over Shaniera as the claw came down, tearing four gouges across her back. Leanne gritted her teeth, not understanding why it didn’t hurt so much as it should have, but not really having the time to consider it anyway. Shani held Leanne tight to her, keeping the sword up with the other hand as she crawled away. Ella backed away with her dagger as the zombies closed in. The vampire raised a claw for another strike.

And then a bolt of silver came screaming through the night air, piercing Renoa’s mutated hand. The vampire screamed and clutched at the wound. From the trees, a cavalry came riding into the garden. Their leader raised a fist, yelling a chant, and from his hand sprouted a line of flame, twisting and coiling in the air as the whip in his hand went ablaze, illuminating his one-eyed face. At his left, a bearded man released the reins of his horse to load a crossbow held in one hand. To his right, a woman brought down her scimitar as they came charging past Mikhael. The zombie stiffened, then went limp, his head flying off. It struck the great pumpkin with a plop. Xadoran charged at Renoa, intent on running her down, but the vampire lashed out, burying her claws deep into his mount as he passed. The Yokudan charger screamed, its gallop turning to a painful collapse as its intestines spilled out. Xadoran leapt off the saddle, landing ten feet from the vampire, and danced into action, cracking his whip from a dozen angles at Renoa. She screeched as the fiery cord ripped at her flesh, clawing about like a confused animal, and Xadoran kept twirling and striking effortlessly. Behind him, Boros’s animated corpse swung its axe around its head, trying to catch one of the riders harrowing it, while the swordswoman threw knives from her horse, impaling Boros’s arms and legs. The man with the crossbow, calm as a steady breeze, loaded and fired a silver bolt through the zombie’s neck, and it finally fell. With the zombies dead, the two mounted Ash’abah wheeled around to surround the last enemy. Xadoran swung high, and the whip coiled around Renoa’s throat. She reeled, falling to her knees, slashing furiously everywhere.

“What is going on–” Madam al-Farúk exclaimed, running out into the garden. She stopped when she saw Renoa’s face in the light of the flaming whip. “Oh gods, no…”

“Leanne! Shaniera!” Toren cried, running to their sides. “Ella, get back!”

Xadoran reached out, gripping the whip with a gloved hand, seemingly untouched by the heat. He began to coil the rope back up, bringing himself closer to Renoa, until he was at her back. With one quick motion, he pulled a stick from his pack, its end sharpened to a fine point. He plunged the stake through her heart as he tightened the whip, the flames melting the flesh from her neck. Just as the dark hunger began to fade from Renoa’s yellow eyes into a cold emptiness, Xadoran reached up and gripped her head, pulling it back and twisting until it came free from her shoulders with a low, sickly crunch. Her jaw fell open, her gaunt face caught in an eternally silent scream, until both the body and head disintegrated into dust. Xadoran stepped away from the ashes, brushing what landed on him into the pile. In a pile of crushed aloe plants, his horse kicked and cried as it died.

“Salim,” Xadoran called, the flames of his whip guttering out. “The horse, please.” The bearded man with the crossbow nodded, dismounted, and shot a bolt straight through the horse’s skull. It gave one last kick, then laid still.

Leanne looked up at her father, then down at Shaniera, and cried as they embraced each other. And she thought those words she had once said to her, knowing them to be true, and almost said them again.

Chapter VIII. “Dusk”

Nobody got much sleep after the harrowing the night before, so the next day everyone took it easy. The only task at hand was to clean up the carnage in the garden. At midday, they held a small ceremony for the interment of Mikhael and Boros’s bodies, along with an urn filled with Renoa’s vampiric ashes. The horse was the difficult part; Xadoran’s bold Yokudan charger was hundreds of pounds of muscle, and it took both of the Ash’abahs’ remaining horses and the family’s ox all tied together with the corpse to drag it away. Its torn belly left a thick trail of blood, glistening darkly in the sun, but by the late afternoon the soil had swallowed it all up.

Xadoran, Salim, and the swordswoman whose name turned out be Ithko all held council with the family to discuss the matters of the night before. Given the bite marks found covering Mikhael and Boros, they said it was fair to assume that Renoa had been feeding off of them the past few days, before raising them as undead servants in order to find more sustenance. She must have not found enough blood, however, and went into a feeding frenzy. It still left the question of the vampire that turned Renoa, however. Whoever they were, they could still very well be out there. Ah’zuli thanked them for their work and for saving the lives of her family, and in return for their bravery she assured them that they would always have a place at the Farúk estate. Xadoran thanked her, and vowed to defend the estate from any more of the vampiric plague that happened to lurk in the Dragon’s Tail. It was clear that they would be staying for some time longer, but they were more than welcome to.

“I should never had said the things I said.”

Shaniera walked at her side. It had taken a day of rest, followed by half a day of pumpkin pie preparation involving Leanne, Toren, Gro’shuba, Ella, Shaniera, and even Ah’zuli for Leanne to work up the courage to ask Shaniera for some time to speak in private. They set out with flour-caked hands through the garden, past the vines where the great big pumpkin now sat alone. The harvest festival had come and gone, and so, tragically, the pumpkin would never see the world beyond the garden and the manse. The pies that they did not eat would be kept on the fire salts for when the prince’s uncle came up with the rest of his entourage, some dozen men and women of the Sentinel royal guard, along with his eldest daughters. Why he had elected to bring them along was a mystery to Ah’zuli; she could only fathom that he would want a marriage for his own children, and she had no sons to offer. Nevertheless, they sent Hasan down to check on the status of his recovery, and prepared the manse in the meantime. The pies would be baked and the seeds roasted for a feast at home.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Shaniera agreed.

“But if I hadn’t, would you have told me why you didn’t fight back?”

“Perhaps, but you could have asked, instead of accused.”

“You’re right. I was wrong.”

“Just a bit, yes.”

“I was a bitch.”

“Okay, you can stop. Leanne may not be perfect, but I love her very much, and won’t tolerate you speaking of her like that.” She stopped and turned to head to the pumpkin. Leanne followed, dumbstruck. Had she heard her right? Shaniera climbed atop the massive gourd, sitting down to face the north, to where the vast garden melded with the mountain forest. Leanne climbed up on uncertain feet to join her. Though not as high as the windows of Shaniera’s room, the pumpkin afforded a perch that overlooked the whole of the farm and most of the garden, a rolling sea of golds, reds, purples, blues, and greens, low-lying beds of poppies and tall sunflower stalks, fruit trees, aloe plants, the maze of hedges filled with berries and roses, and the ring of flowers around the well from which the garden and family all drank, a mass of marble and stone constructed after an Ayleid fashion.

“I forgive you, Leanne.” In the midday sun, the thick waves of Shaniera’s hair shone darkly, and the light caught in the brown of her eyes like souls in a gemstone, a sight both beautiful and haunting. Leanne ached, wanting nothing more than to kiss her.

“Shaniera, I…” Come on, say it. She said it just now, why can’t you?

Shaniera put a hand over Leanne’s. “It’s okay. I know.”

Leanne glanced to the side, saw how far they were from the manse, and couldn’t glimpse anyone standing close to the windows in the kitchen. She took the moment, held up Shaniera’s chin, and leaned in. The other girl didn’t hesitate to tilt her head and close her eyes. The kiss tasted of summer’s warmth, the songs of birds and the crackle of fire in the night. When it finally ended, they held each other’s gaze for a long time, to the point it got uncomfortable and they both broke out in laughter.

“You know, there’s something I didn’t quite finish saying before,” Shaniera started. “When I was trying to give Khara a chance, it didn’t just seem clear that I would never have affection for him as a wife should. I couldn’t imagine having such feelings for any man.”

Leanne wanted to quip, but having learned from before, she kept her silence to hear the point.

“Something I also realized afterwards was… well…” Shani scratched her head, looking uncertain.

“You have feelings for Ella, too,” Leanne said. “So do I.”

Shani’s uncertainty vanished, baring a face of glee. “Yes, and if it’s possible to have affection for more than one person… well, I hear the prince’s uncle has two daughters we may meet soon.”

Leanne pondered the idea. “It would be a long shot. Firstly, you’d be going down from marrying the King of Sentinel’s son to one of his nieces, and your mother would have to consent to that.”

“As well as a marriage where I cannot give her grandchildren. Don’t forget that.” Shaniera shrugged. “Though my mother is still young, and there may yet be a chance for her to have a son. You’d like a brother, wouldn’t you?”

Leanne didn’t understand at first, but it didn’t take long. “Shani!” She slapped her arm, then looked back at the manse. She could just barely make out the sight of her father through the kitchen window, with Shaniera’s mother standing beside him. “You don’t think…” she tried to sound somewhat in disbelief, but she could not deny the sense in the theory.

“Oh, I certainly do. But that’s something for another day. If we tried suggesting that she’s lying with a servant, she’ll sell me to the prince in a heartbeat out of spite.” She grinned. “But I’m sure if it’s a continued al-Farúk lineage she wants, she’ll think of that on her own.”

“Then, of course, we’d have to hope that at least one of Khara’s cousins prefers the company of women. And that the both of us actually like her, though I suppose anything is better than Khara.” Leanne laughed.

“And would accept the company of more than one woman as well,” Shaniera added. “But we’ll have two chances in a day or two, and if neither of them work out, I’m sure we’ll be able to find a Redguard family of some renown with a daughter that would suit us.”

“Look at us, planning our own future. How novel.” Leanne looked out onto the garden. All the destruction had happened behind them, leaving the scenery here untouched.

“By the way, I really like this,” Shaniera said, putting a hand on the back of Leanne’s neck and thumbing the shortened hair. “Did you do this yourself?”

“Ella did, actually. I’ve been waiting two days for you to say something.” It had been years since her hair had been this short, and she still found herself reaching up to feel hair that wasn’t there. It would take some getting used to, but she was happy with it.

“Speaking of waiting…” Shaniera’s eyes grew playfully mischievous. “My birthday is tomorrow.”

“I can tell you from experience, nineteen won’t feel much different than eighteen.”

“I appreciate the wisdom of your age, o sage of twenty years. What I’m really interested in is what you plan on giving me.”

Leanne tried to fight it, but she knew she must be blushing fiercely. “Well, I can’t spoil the surprise.” She certainly had an idea or two.

The next day, they walked together to the river. Shaniera had her father’s sword buckled at her side. Before she’d wielded it that terrifying night, she had never held the sword for longer than a few minutes at a time; now she walked with it as her own weapon. She had earned it. Her father would be proud, Leanne thought. I certainly am.

Two paces from where the trees ended, Leanne stopped them, pulling out a long strip of cloth.

“Hold still,” she bade Shaniera as she tied it around her head.

“You could just ask me to close my eyes,” Shaniera protested, but did not resist Leanne as she tied the blindfold.

“You would absolutely open them early. Now, don’t touch the blindfold until I say.” She took Shaniera’s hand and led her along the river bank, over a little knoll towards a lone tree looming over the water. The knoll was just high enough to obscure the tree’s base from where they had emerged, and as they ascended it, Leanne saw that Ella was already ready. “Okay, sit down here. Perfect. Now, no peaking!”

“Keep those hands in your lap,” Ella commanded. “I’ll be watching you.”

“Such secrecy,” Shaniera giggled, laying the sword down beside her. “I feel like I’ve been abducted.”

Leanne went over to the tree, where Ella handed off her part of the gift, then dashed quietly off to the side to change. They had spent the morning getting themselves ready, doing their business (they knew they would be out for a while) and then washing up. A lot of effort had been put in there; the servant girls had hair like royalty, and smelled of exotic flowers, aloe, and pumpkins. Leanne had the idea of grinding up a dried-up slice of one of the pumpkins to spice their hair with, and it was clear on the walk that Shani took notice. Her princess had also treated herself; for her birthday, she enjoyed her morning by an open window, soaking in a tub of warm water with flower petals floating on the surface. She had a whole bottle of that lovely shampoo all to herself, courtesy of Leanne, whom she thanked profusely for the birthday present. Leanne laughed it off, pointing out that she made it for her all the time, and promised that her actual present would be coming soon.

By the time she returned to take her place beside Ella, she was struggling to fight the giggles that were bubbling up inside of her. The whole thing felt just the slightest bit ridiculous, but she knew that however Shani reacted, this idea would pay off. If nothing happened, they would at least share a great laugh about it. But if Shaniera was in the mood to open her gifts now…

“Okay, you can look now.”

Shaniera lifted the blindfold from her eyes and froze as she took in the sight in front of her. Ella and Leanne were each propped up on an elbow, an arm draped over the side, and each wore nothing but strips of silk wrapped around their bodies. The silk was red on Leanne, gold on Ella, and covered just barely enough to pass as a shield for modesty, though the cloth wasn’t entirely opaque. Shani raised her hands to her face to shield her open mouth and blushing cheeks, and the girls burst out laughing.

“Happy Birthday!” Leanne barely managed to say the words, breathless.

“Would you care to open your presents now, princess?” Ella asked in a sultry voice. It was very clear that she was no stranger to this sort of play.

“By the divines, I most certainly would!” Shaniera approached, falling to her knees before them. “Such beautiful presents, wrapped so elegantly… how could I resist?” Their scant costumes were held at points where the ribbons were tied into bows. Shaniera went for the bows at their necks, pulling the ribbons free and letting them unfurl from their shoulders, freeing their breasts. She gave Leanne a long, hungry kiss, then a peck at her neck and on a nipple, then moved her attention to Ella. Their kiss was slow and refined, and Ella looked wondrous as a marble statue when she leaned back to receive the kiss on her neck. Her breasts were smaller than Leanne’s, but a bit larger than Shani’s, and the princess cupped them as she laid her lips across the milky white flesh. She brought one hand over to Leanne, massaging her breasts, and looked between the both of them anxiously.

“I’m being spoiled,” she declared. “I hardly know where to keep my attention!”

“Let us help you with that,” Leanne said. She drew herself close to Ella, pressing her body to hers. They looked down on Shaniera, and she up at them, with a look of awe that flattered Leanne to no end, and made her heart melt. She’s so adorable, she thought. And I make her happy. We make her happy. She cupped Shani’s cheek as the girl wrapped her arms around their legs, kissing their thighs, untying the knots. A hand on her breast sent a shiver roiling through her, and she looked at the woman standing beside her. Gods, her hands are cold, Leanne thought, and then Ella kissed her deeply, and thoughts became a thing of the past. The ribbons fell from their legs and Shani planted hand on each girl’s bottom, lurching forward into the gap between them. She bit down over the red silk bow, pulling the ribbon free with her teeth, then moved on to the gold.

Ella smiled. “I taught her that.” She stroked a hand through Shani’s hair. “There’s a good girl.” With the last of the ribbons fallen to the grass, Shani’s open presents suddenly fell on her. Pinned on the ground, she lay helpless as lips and fingers travelled over every inch of exposed skin, covering her face and neck, her arms and hands, and then they began to pull at her gown, tugging the fabric aside, up, down, off… the kisses spread as the coverings fell, and soon the grass itself was kissing her, as she lay there naked beneath them. Leanne looked at her body, and saw her. There were scars on her knees from days in their youth, a bruise on her knuckle from where Leanne had hit her with the training sword by mistake. The muscles in her arms and legs were symbols of the proud Redguard heritage, naturally gifted warriors who trained from youth. But she was still noble, and she had never known true conflict, and so the definition was tempered by soft flesh, a bit of fat that made her legs fuller, her stomach look gentler, her arms warmer. She was kind and sweet, neither big nor small, not built like a warrior or like a princess. She had small teats and cute little rolls over her stomach, sheltering the muscle beneath. She was a dancer, bold and black, who had in her the mountains of Craglorn and the Dragon’s Tail as well as the Alik’r desert. She was soft and strong, and she was beautiful–by all things holy and good, she was beautiful–and by the grace of all those things, she was hers.

When Ella pulled away, it took all of Leanne’s strength to follow her lead and do the same. This part had been Ella’s idea, and seeing Shani’s face at first almost made Leanne feel bad for agreeing to it. Almost. Ella kissed her firmly, pressing her body against hers. Her whole body felt oddly cool to the touch; the poor girl must have been freezing, Leanne figured, but she certainly did well to hide it. Leanne followed her lead, tried to match her pace, the both of them exploring one another with their hands, grinding their hips together. She looked out of the corner of her eye, and watched Shaniera spread her legs wide and reach down below. Happy birthday, my sweet. Enjoy the show. Ella descended upon Leanne’s neck, kissing and sucking and ravishing the clavicle with her tongue, and when she pulled away her breath was catching in tight spurts, as if she were in pain. Leanne searched her face, wondering if something were wrong, and saw what might have been fear in those eyes.

“Ella,” she said. She thought she might have bumped the girl in the chin, made her bite her cheek. “Do you need a break?” At her side, Shaniera looked just as concerned, even as she continued to rub herself idly. Ella sat back on her heels, licked her lips, and then she was back to where she was before.

“No,” she answered, then lunged forward. Leanne thought she saw the glint of a profoundly pointed canine flashing at her, and a raw fear took hold of her; she jerked back, pulling grass up between her fingers, and then Ella was on top of her. Her kiss was ravenous, her tongue pushing through and twisting around the corners of her mouth, and Leanne winced as teeth worried at her lip. It felt as if the girl would devour her, if she continued to let her, and it terrified her… and she wanted more. Leanne forced her tongue out, matching the passion of the one violating her own mouth, and the space hers found was as warm and wet and raw with hunger as she. There was a slight metallic hint on her tongue, she must have been right, Ella had bitten herself. It was a small thing, thankfully. She licked along a row of perfectly straight teeth, ran down the front, and one seemed to keep going, the canine, but how large–and then Ella pulled up and her hand was on Leanne’s neck, stroking it on its way down her collar, between her breasts, over her stomach, every touch sending nervous jitters shooting out under her skin like spiderwebs crackling. It felt like lightning was charging up inside her, ever so slowly, and staring up at the sky she saw the sunlight dim as the clouds were growing grayer and closer. Let the rain come, she thought. The day was unseasonably warm, and she loved getting caught in the rain. Let the storm come for us. As if in answer, Ella slid a finger inside her, and the heat seemed to flow up her body in a mad dance. Heart pounding, she hurried to reciprocate, and Ella moaned over her, her tits swaying ever so slightly, beckoningly, and Leanne craned her head forward and trapped one in her mouth. She sucked hard on the nipple, moving her fingers in and out of Ella, and she felt another finger go inside her and she released her breast as the moan came creeping out, low and vulgar in its rawness. She saw Shaniera, a goddess with her hair in the wind, rubbing between her legs furiously as she watched on. Ella looked over to her, took her fingers out of Leanne, and popped them into her mouth. They came out soaked in her saliva and Leanne’s juices, and Ella swallowed like it were sweet honey.

“Oh, damn you both, you cruel teases,” Shaniera groaned, brown eyes wide with need. Ella curled a finger towards her, saying come here, and Shani obeyed, tackling her to the ground. Leanne came up with a short laugh as the princess interlocked her legs with Ella’s, a test of flexibility that both met with ease. Shaniera grabbed hold of the leg pointed straight up and held tight as she ground her hips back and forth, rubbing herself against Ella, the sound of wet skin on wet skin between them. Leanne crawled forward, not sure where to go, and then Ella was pulling her by the leg.

“Over here,” she growled, licking her lips and pointing at her nose. No, her face–Leanne understood, and swung a leg over the girl’s head. She lowered herself down until she straddled Ella’s nose, and fought to contain herself as the girl’s tongue went to work between her legs. It felt as if everything was pounding, not just her heart but the blood itself, beating against her body with a roiling fury. Sweat trickled down her like rain, forming beads along her breasts, running rivulets on her legs. Shaniera was there, right in front of her, pounding away at the woman beneath them, and she looked up and met her gaze. Her eyes alone seemed capable of speaking entire epics without a single word between them, and they both moved to one another, and when their lips met Leanne was certain she could hear the crack of lightning in the distance. Long was the kiss, deep was the well that it drank from, and it tasted of everything, of sweat and tears and laughter, of the blood shed by vampire claws that spilt on her own face, of bitter dirt and sweet strawberries, of honeyed tea and mildew, of love and life and loss. It was everything, and she was everything.

As Shaniera’s body began to glisten from sweat, the first drop of rain found her back. She straightened, but hardly had a gasp to spare for the cool drop of water, as she gasped enough for the sensation that she drove her hips so hard to keep. Leanne took her in her arms, urged her to rise, and Ella crawled out from underneath, towards the tree. The two shared another kiss, and then Leanne moved her over to sit in front of Ella. She pulled Shani’s legs out, so that she reclined against the other woman’s chest, the bush between her legs thrust out, waiting. Ella kissed the princess on her neck, stroking her little breasts, making her make those oh-so-sweet moans.

“Happy birthday,” Leanne said, kissed Shani again, and then lowered herself to lie in the dirt between her legs. Reaching around to grip her thighs, she buried her face into the wetness, and drove her tongue deep inside. The taste, the smell all overwhelmed her, dulling her other senses, until there was only Shani, and the titanic charge between them. She was one with the storm; she was the rain that began to fall heavier and heavier, soaking her hair and caressing her body, shocking and familiar all at once. She looked up at her as she did her work, gods, she was so beautiful. Leanne lost all other thought, her hand working between her own legs automatically; in her conscious thought there was only Shaniera and her pleasure. Shani reached down and ran her fingers through Leanne’s hair, gripping it and coaxing her head further down, into her. Leanne plunged deeper, tilting her head up frantically to allow her nose room to breathe before diving in again. She was drowning in an ocean of emotion and electricity, and she longed for it, yearning for its waters to fill her lungs and carry her down to its deepest depths. Thunder crackled, torrents came crashing down, her hair clung to her face and the skin surrounding her, and above Ella was tilting her head back and grinding her hips against Shani’s backside, pale fingers pinching and rubbing a dark nipple, and Shaniera was locking eyes with Leanne, and soon her hand met with the one at her thigh as well, and they held on to each other, the storm growing greater, uncowed, uncontrolled, the electricity surging, the tempest rising, drenching them in lust, drowning in love, oh yes, yes yes yes yes yesyesyesyesyesyesyes YES, Shani, oh my Shani, I love you, I love you so much, please come for me, please please please show me that I make you feel as wonderful as you make me feel…

Then the storm overflowed, and the dam was burst and crashing down everywhere. Leanne was coated in Shaniera’s wetness as it exploded from her, and she felt herself leaking into the soil as her body shook and spasmed. Ella was screaming, and Shaniera cried out in ecstasy, and Leanne might have been too if her mouth weren’t smothered against Shaniera, lips of different sorts locked together in a kiss of carnality. Shaniera’s hand squeezed hers tightly, and she held on for dear life, letting the storm wash over her until she was weightless and tingly all over, and their bodies all went slack and they lay tangled in one another. Over the low swell of rain striking water and leaves, they could hear each other’s heavy breaths and a pair of beating hearts.

It happened quietly, subtly, a little jerk of her knee–a reaction. Leanne lifted her head, saw Shaniera, her eyes were closed, head bobbing as if lost in a daze, and Ella was slumped over her shoulder. The rain was running down between them, running dark against her skin… it wasn’t rain, Leanne realized. She tried to rise but she was still drained, moving as if swimming through that ocean she’d so carelessly lost herself in, and when she heard the slurping she found her strength and shot herself forward, grabbing Ella by the head and ripping her off. A splatter of Shaniera’s blood went flying as Ella reeled back, sharp fangs drenched in red. Leanne pulled Shani away from her, and then she was alert, reaching up to feel the bite in her neck.

“Shaniera,” Ella moaned. Her head swayed, then froze, and her eyes shifted. She raised a hand to the fangs sprouting from her mouth, and looked at Leanne with horror. “Oh, gods, I didn’t… Leanne, please, I didn’t mean to!”

“Stay back!” Leanne screamed. She pulled Shaniera along, shaking and clutching at her for support. When they reached the pile of the princess’s clothes, Leanne released her to snatch the family sword from beside the pile. “Shaniera, get dressed,” she commanded, keeping the blade trained on the vampire. Ella didn’t move from the tree. Leanne stared her down, trying to keep her balance. She was hanging over that pit again, how could she not have seen? She failed Shaniera, she put her in danger, letting this creature into their lives. Shani put her hand on Leanne’s shoulder; she was hurriedly dressed, and hadn’t bothered with shoes. Leanne backed away as they circled around to her own clothes. From them, she took only her undergarment, a plain white frock, and slipped it over her head.

She took one last look back at Ella, clenching the sword. There’s no time, she thought. She had to see Shaniera to safety. I’ll deal with you later. She took Shaniera by the arm and they ran, through the rain and wood.

Towards the light of home.

Chapter IX. “Nightfall”

The clouds had snuffed out the sun, and thick sheets of rain showered the mountain forest. The torch-flames beat and danced madly against the torrent, casting flickering light around the manse. Toren was the first one outside when they got close enough to be heard, and his eyes filled with his fatherly worry when he saw them running home.

“She’s been bit,” Leanne said. She didn’t need to say what had done it; the answer was clearly on his mind.

They tracked in rain and mud on the tile floor inside. Rain dripped from Leanne’s hair, and it melded with her tears, but she kept her composure here among these people, her family. Dignity is everything. She needed to remain calm. Shaniera looked worried rather than fearful, like a child with a splinter, not knowing the full measure of the injury they had suffered. When her mother saw her, the look in her eyes froze the blood in Leanne’s veins.

“If you have a potion for curing disease, now is the time for it,” Xadoran said at once. Ah’zuli cried out for the potions to be brought from stores, and Rodar hurried out of the room. He emerged with a glass bottle in the shape of a great teardrop. Ah’zuli took it from him, popped off the cork, and fed it to her daughter like she was a suckling babe. Shaniera grabbed the bottle and pushed herself away from her mother.

“I can take my own medicine,” she said, but she did not look nearly as confident as she sounded. Her hands shook as she raised the bottle to her lips, and her watering eyes flitted about wildly as she gulped the potion down.

“Be sure to drink it all,” her mother said. When Shani finished drinking, Ah’zuli walked over to Leanne. Her gait was calm and steady, her posture reserved. Leanne often forgot how tall the woman was, until she was towering over her. She had also forgotten how strong she was, until the sting of the slap hit her brain, and by that point she was falling to the floor and uncertain of which was left and right. The sword clattered loudly on the floor.

“How did this happen?” Ah’zuli demanded. Half the room stared at her; the other half at Leanne. The prince looked at Shaniera, one hand on his sword hilt. Toren looked at the whole scene in horror.

“I… don’t know…” she couldn’t find it in herself to say that Ella had done it. She also couldn’t deny it, either; she herself was furious with the girl. She had lied to them, she had hurt Shani.

“Do you take me for a fool, Leanne? Three girls left this house, and only two have returned and my daughter has two holes in her neck. Let me guess, did this vampire get Ella too?” She bent down and picked up the sword. “You dishonor my husband, our venerated dead. Your hand is not fit to hold this sword.” Leanne felt foul in her stomach. She had always feared the strength of Ah’zuli’s words more than that of her hand. “I have tolerated you when I believed you to be nothing more than a healthy distraction for my daughter, but now you have put her in harm’s way, and that I will not so easily forgive.”

Behind her, Shaniera broke out into a fit of coughing. Ah’zuli whirled around. “Shaniera, dear, are you alright?” Shaniera looked up at her mother, nodding meekly, and tried to speak, but no sound came out of her. She opened her mouth wider, caught in a silent scream, and fell to her knees.

“Shaniera!” Several voices called out. Leanne was sure she had been one of them, but didn’t really hear her own voice.

“The potion isn’t taking,” Ithko grumbled, her blade halfway out of its scabbard.

“What do you mean?” Bary asked. “It’s a ‘cure disease’ potion, and this is a disease, isn’t it?”

“Useful as ever, Bary,” Ah’zuli scoffed. She made it to Shaniera at the same time as Xadoran, and eyed him with suspicion as she went to help her daughter stand. The Ash’abah looked at her mournfully, and held out a hand to help Ah’zuli get the girl on her feet.

“Bring the girl somewhere to lie down for a moment,” Xadoran commanded the servants. “Salim, Ithko, attend them to watch over her. I must speak with the lady of the household.” Gro’shuba came to take Shaniera from them, her usual stone-faced demeanor almost showing emotion. Toren went to go with her, but Xadoran held up a hand. “You should remain.” Rodar and Hasan looked to the two Ash’abah that followed the lone orc, then to Ah’zuli, and at the nod of her head they followed, hands by their swords.

“My friends, listen carefully, for we do not have much time.” Xadoran’s voice was low and calm. “I fear that Shaniera is not suffering from an easily curable strain of vampirism.” Expressions of worry travelled between the small circle. Leanne willed herself to shut out the despairing scream inside of her, and listen to whatever was said.

“My people have travelled far across Hammerfell, and encountered a number of vampires and clans of vampires,” he continued. “In many cases, the disease they spread takes about three days after infection to turn someone into a vampire. However, more recently, we have seen people becoming vampires mere hours after being bitten. Neither potions nor shrines nor magic can cure them. We’ve only managed to interrogate a few of this new breed, and they tell of a ritual where they are bathed in blood in order to complete the transformation. Whether this ritual is a literal requirement to complete the process, or merely imagined when that time comes, we cannot say for certain.”

The room was silent. Outside, the day was turning to night, and the wind howled angrily, begging to be heard.

“It sounds like we have an impossible choice,” Bary finally said. “Shaniera, or us.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll make sure to kill you first,” Ah’zuli said. “Which it won’t, but don’t think I won’t cut out that useless tongue of yours. Xadoran, what options do we have?” The woman clamped her hands together to stop them from shaking. Ah’zuli was known to have a temper, to be sure, but she never panicked. Now that the cracks were showing, Leanne didn’t dare imagine what their plight would look like if those fissures were to burst. “Please, there must be something your people can do for my daughter.”

Xadoran’s eye was terribly empty, revealing about as much as the crystal that occupied the other socket. In the dim light of the wall sconces, his scarred face looked far more dreadful than that of any vampire. “There is a ritual practiced by some tribes throughout the Alik’r. They understand vampirism to be a form of possession, where a malevolent Daedra from Oblivion invades a host’s body and corrupts their soul, becoming a part of the victim when the disease finishes transforming them.” His fingers curled around the handle of the whip coiled at his side. “If the body is made unfavorable for the Daedra, there is a chance the victim will be spared.”

“Made unfavorable how?” Leanne snapped. She had to bite down to keep the bile from racing up her throat.

“Vampires are creatures of cold death, and are numb to everything but the pain of hunger. Heat will suffocate the beast, and drive it out of her. Pain will keep her alert, so that her mind will not be easily overcome.”

“No,” Leanne whispered. “No, you can’t do that to her. Madam, please!” Ah’zuli paid her no mind.

“This is madness!” Toren said, barely containing his voice to just below a shout. “All undead are abhorrent to Arkay. We should find one of his devout. They may succeed in curing what others have failed to.”

“You will be hard pressed to find a priest of your divines in Hammerfell,” Xadoran warned. “Do you know any of His rites?”

Toren clutched at the amulet around his neck. Arkay was his god, but was no priest. “No… but I know these mountains.” He turned to Madam al-Farúk, and took her hands in his. “Ah’zuli, I beg you, give me a horse and a day’s rations, and I will bring Shaniera north of the Dragontail Mountains. A day, maybe two, and we will be in High Rock. There are villages near the border, villages with temples, where the Divines’ power may be found.”

“Are you mad?” Ah’zuli shook her head, her eyes locked on his. “We have no mounts left suitable for the terrain. If you run a horse hard through these mountains at night, how long do you think it will take for it to sprain a leg? You will be lost out there, and Shaniera will run out of time… I can’t lose you both.” She released him, and turned to the Ash’abah. “Xadoran, what happens if Shaniera does turn?”

His eye remained stoic and cold. “Once someone becomes a vampire, the only cure is death.”

Ah’zuli closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “And you say heat will keep this Daedra out of her?”

“The success is not guaranteed, but it is the best method we know of.”

The room was silent. Outside, the rain howled, and Shaniera’s hacking coughs echoed from the rooms beyond. Ah’zuli’s eyes remained closed.

“Toren,” she finally said. “Bring the fire salts outside.”

Chapter X. “Banishment”

There were only five Ash’abah at the house, and Xadoran sent two out to find Ella, leaving them with Salim, Ithko, and himself.

“The vampire is still out there,” he told the two. “Go to the river; those girls took refuge there.” The men nodded and headed into the woods without a word, weapons drawn and ready.

In the garden, Xadoran and Ithko were preparing a bonfire. A stone circle was laid out by the base of the juniper tree, and beside it stacked a pile of twigs and strips of dried bark that the Ash’abah had to carry under their cloaks to keep dry from the rain. Toren and three of Khara’s guards carried the marble tray of fire salts slowly across the garden. The salts needed no protection, evaporating the raindrops that landed on the tray, and plumes of steam rose with their procession like a smoky standard. Shaniera was brought behind them, escorted by Salim, Rodar, Hasan, and her cousin, Blane. All had their swords belted at their sides, different sizes and curves of scimitar and dagger, save for Blane’s; the straight and long blade he wore was a symbol of the swordsmanship he had learned from his travels to Daggerfall. Xadoran cautioned them to keep armed fighters by her side at all times before the ritual, though she didn’t seem like much of a threat. Shaniera walked in a daze, and had to be coaxed along by the two household guards, each gripping an arm. At the tree, Ah’zuli and Leanne stood uneasily, waiting for the ritual to begin. Ithko was uncoiling a long rope from a bag while Xadoran took out a bundle of pretty red flowers and began crushing them in a mortar and pestle.

“Satakal’s Blossom,” Ah’zuli whispered. “A rare flower from the Alik’r desert.”

Xadoran flicked his fingers together several times, the sound of the snaps abnormally sharp and loud, and then a spark of flame came up in them, which he thrust into the ground-up flowers. Thin whisps of smoke rose from the bowl, and he set it down by the fire pit. Toren and the prince’s men reached the tree, straining to set the heavy tray down slowly. The prince himself was nothing of the refined man he had arrived as; his hair was a tangled nest, his eyes puffy from lack of sleep.

“Where is Gro’shuba?” Ah’zuli asked when Toren approached her side. “She should have been helping you carry that. And what of Barentho? Where has he run off to?”

Toren looked queasy. “My lady, Gro’shuba has fled.”

“What?”

“She and several other servants took off down the mountain a few moments ago. I tried to warn them against it, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“And Bary?”

“He is fled as well.”

“That wretched coward, damn him! I knew that man had no honor in him. The blood of old Yokuda flows thin in his veins.”

“Ah’zuli,” Blane said, approaching the cloister of them. He was her nephew by blood, the son of her sister who lived at the estate. “My mother wanted to leave as well, but I convinced her to remain. She is inside, keeping the children calm.” Blane’s two younger brothers had never held a real weapon before, and certainly shouldn’t have to witness whatever was about to happen.

“Good,” Ah’zuli sighed. “At least I know I can rely on your honor. My sister has children she fears for; I can forgive that.” Ah’zuli looked at her only child. Shaniera was arching her head back, her mouth wide open, trying to catch the rain as it fell. Her face grew more distressed with every swallow of water, confused as to why it wouldn’t slake her thirst. Any hope Leanne had of them stopping this ritual was dashed: it had been over an hour since Shaniera drank the potion, and her symptoms had only grown in number and severity, not one of them being a side effect of a disease-curing potion. There could be no doubting the wisdom of the Ash’abah, which meant they would continue to have the support of her mother. Ah’zuli’s grip tightened on the sword of her late husband, but she stayed silent as Salim took her daughter by the arm and led her away from Rodar and Hasan.

The juniper tree’s trunk split about eight feet from the ground, and the half that curved to the side stretched over the fire pit. Ithko swung the rope over the thick branch and brought one end over, and she and Salim began to bind Shaniera’s arms together. With the rope on her skin, the princess’s eyes sharpened, and suddenly the daze was gone.

“What’s happening?” She asked. She looked around at the Ash’abah and her family. “What are you doing?” She tried to wriggle free, but the rope had already been wound several times, encasing her arms up to the elbows. She jerked back and Salim held the rope taut, while Ithko moved to secure the other end.

“Why is she still wearing that dress?” Xadoran demanded of them. “Cut it short or cut it off, we aren’t trying to set her on fire.” Salim nodded, took out his dagger, and gripped the side of Shaniera’s gown as he tried to saw through the skirt just above the knee. Shaniera twisted out of his grip and kicked him in the jaw, but before she could run Ithko was behind her, and had her stuck in a tight hug. She thrashed around, crying out, and for an instant Leanne saw a glint of blue in her eyes. Shaniera bit down hard on the woman’s arm, shaking her head as if to tear the limb off, but her teeth didn’t have fangs–not yet, at least, and the arm was covered in chainmail.

“We’re losing her,” Ithko said. She held her in place for Salim to step forward and tear the dress right off. Night had almost fallen completely, and Shaniera’s body was little more than a shape in the dark, surrounded by the shadows of the Ash’abah in their black cloaks, but Blane averted his eyes all the same. Ah’zuli looked on as a mother might at a time like this, as did Toren–he had always treated Shani as if she were his daughter, too. The prince watched, his thin smile unseen by all but Leanne.

“Blane,” Leanne whispered. The young man was just a bit older than her, twenty-one or twenty-two, and was just as fine a swordsman as his cousin. “We have to do something. We can’t let them do this to her!”

“What choice do we have?” His eyes were filled with uncertainty, but it wasn’t enough. “Leanne, I love my cousin, and I know you love her too. We cannot let her become one of those monsters.”

Xadoran pulled the rope, and Shaniera was hoisted up, naked and kicking and screaming. A piton was planted in the dirt and the rope fastened to it. Then Xadoran gave the order to set the fire. Hasan looked to Ah’zuli, uncertain, but Rodar didn’t seem to have any reservations and began moving the heavy slab. Reluctantly, Hasan helped him moved it into the stone circle, under Shaniera. The Ash’abah tossed the wood from the pile onto the granite. Whatever dampness had gotten to the kindling meant nothing to the salts, and soon the whole pit was ablaze. Shaniera stared into the fire below her, eyes wide with panic. Xadoran brought the bowl of burning flowers up, and began to chant in old Yoku, joined in by the other Ash’abah. He upended the bowl’s contents into the flames, then reached for a pouch at his side, and sprinkled from it a fine powder that sizzled into green fumes when it fell into the blaze. Stepping back, he drew out his whip, and cried out in the language of Tamriel, “foul Daedra from Oblivion, begone from the realm of Mundus. Begone!”

When the whip cracked, for a split-second Leanne thought that lightning had struck, and then Shaniera screamed. The whip came in again, lashing loudly against the storm. The wind wailed in the rain. Leanne wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. She watched the tears stream down Shaniera’s face, and the red lines drawn one by one along her back, her buttocks, her legs. Salim and Ithko stood to the side, still murmuring that strange tongue of history. Salim’s crossbow was loaded and in-hand, a silver bolt ready to kill at a moment’s notice.

“Please!” Shaniera’s voice was raw with fear and pain. “PLEASE, DON’T DO THIS!” She sobbed and thrashed wildly. The flames licked at her heels. The storm howled. The whip cracked.

Leanne rushed forward. Blane lunged to pull her back but she was already past his reach. She dashed towards Xadoran, intent on throwing herself at the man, but he swept her aside with a swat of his arm. Tossed to the mud, Leanne looked back at everyone. No one was going to save Shaniera. They all thought that they already were. Rain and tears soaked her vision, but she knew the garden well enough to get up and run through it half-blind. She heard her father call out to her, and just barely heard Ah’zuli telling him to let her go. And soon all she heard was the rain, and the whip, and the wails of the woman she loved, echoing in her head as she ran out into the darkness.

Chapter XI. “Ritual”

The whole forest seemed to be grabbing at her, trying to stop her. The branches whipped at her arms as she crashed through, cracking harshly off the cotton gown and leaving scratches on her bare hands. The rough undergrowth scratched and tore at her feet, and she was certain that if anyone decided to follow her they would have an easy time of following the trail of blood smatters. Twice her foot caught under a root, throwing her face-down onto the dirt. The second time, she lay there, aching and covered in grass and dirt. She lifted her head slowly. There was no path, only the backway towards the pond, and here the signs she had used before were indiscernible from the vastness of the woods. The rain beat down harder, weighing the leaves above until they dipped under the pressure and wept onto the forest floor, and on her. Their tears were cold, but hers were hot, and they streamed unending from her eyes and all over her skin from the running, blinding her and soaking her to the bone. She was no woman anymore; her score of years meant nothing now. She was a helpless child.

She strained against the weight of the soaked tunic and forced herself up on bloodied feet. She thought of Shani, stripped and strung up on the tree in the garden, whipped while her own family stood by and watched. I have to keep going. I have to save her. She pressed on through the brush. How far was she from the manse? It couldn’t be that much further to the river. She stopped for a moment, glanced behind her, then called out ahead.

“Ella,” she yelled. Then again, louder. “Ella. Ella! ELLA!” The woods were silent, the rain muffling the distant echoes of the panic back home. The animals themselves seemed to be hiding. No one, nothing stirred here but her.

She didn’t see the river right away, but she saw the clearing by the rain that fell in thick sheets where the canopy of leaves ended. She burst out into the open. Green shreds and dirt stuck to her skin, most heavily around her legs. The river ahead rippled under the barrage of rain, and the air smelled thick of wet grass and mud. And blood. Ella lay there, naked on the shore. Her beautiful black hair was everywhere around her head, floating in the shallows of the lake brought higher by the rain, down to her shoulders, sticking to her face. She lay perfectly straight, perfectly still, eyes closed like a corpse in a casket. Rain pelted her skin, but there were no goose bumps, and the heavy drops that landed on her chest and face elicited no reaction. Is she really dead? Leanne wondered, and then she saw them.

The Ash’abah that Xadoran had sent were here. One was on his knees, head slumped over. His arm had been frozen solid up to the shoulder, the forearm shattered into pieces that littered the ground around him, reddened water seeping into the grass as the pieces thawed. The other was lying on the ground, his body ripped wide open, a dark red canyon stretching from the navel to his lip. The whole length of the throat was torn out, a pale pink in the grass, the tongue lolling from one end.

Leanne said her name again. The eyes did not open, the body did not stir. “Ella, please.” The blood that had ran down her chin earlier was washed away, but Leanne thought she saw the shadow of a stain on the vampire’s lips.

“When they took me in the dead of night, do you know what they said?” Ella’s meek voice barely rose over the patter of the rain on the water. “They said, ‘hush child, don’t be afraid. We have a gift for you.’ They kept saying that. A gift, a gift, the glorious one has a gift he wants to share.”

Leanne blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Ella, I don’t have time for this.” What does she want, my sympathy?

Ella paid no attention to her words, continuing to talk in her drifting voice. “Their minds are so twisted that they actually believe their curse to be a gift. But obviously it isn’t; gifts don’t require anything in return. Do you know what their ‘glorious one’ asks for in return for his ‘gift’?” The eyes opened, piercing yellow in the rainy dusk. The rain fell on them, but they did not blink, only stared straight up. “He wants your will. He takes pieces of you away, pieces you can never get back. When his servants rip your clothes off, those pieces rip out with them. And after they’ve used you, broken you, he fills the holes left by those pieces with his putrid essence. It stays with you forever.” A languid hand rose, mud-crusted fingers gesturing at the dead men lying in their gore. “And no matter what you try to do to lock it away, it just keeps bubbling back to the surface. It’s a part of your nature; its instincts become yours.”

Leanne breathed deep. “So I’m supposed to understand that you taking a bite out of my best friend’s neck was ‘instinct’?”

Ella gave her a look that was more questioning than defensive. “I could only ignore the taste of blood for so long.” She touched a hand to the side of her face, rubbing where she had bit her cheek. “When my hunger took over, I had enough self-control to keep my blood from mixing with hers. So, at the very least, she’s only been infected.” She sat up, looked at Leanne again. “I’ve been managing this for a while now, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Leanne shuddered, the cold seeping into her. “You knew that you were infected this whole time… you lied to us.”

Ella rose to her feet. Her hands hung limp at her sides, fingers splayed out like claws. “I never lied to you,” she hissed. “You never asked what I was, and if you had, do you honestly think I would have told the truth? ‘Please, I need help, have mercy, I’m a vampire. Doctors and priests who could help you would sooner kill you if they knew the truth.”

Leanne struggled for a response, but could only manage to echo what was at the forefront of her mind. “Shaniera…”

“Ah, yes. Your princess. Did my bite infect her? Is that why you’ve come back here? What do you want me to do, go to the Ash’abah and explain to them that she’ll be okay, so long as she doesn’t receive blood from a vampire? They’ll kill me on the spot, and that Xadoran will whip you raw just for consorting with me.”

Leanne put the pieces together. “Ella… I think she did get your blood.”

The flaring anger in her eyes dimmed, and suddenly recognition shone there. “Leanne… what’s happening?”

The words came flooding out. “Shaniera was feeling weak, and we gave her a potion, but it didn’t cure her, and then she started getting worse, like she was falling in and out of a trance or something… now they’re whipping her, trying to drive the Daedra out…”

Ella looked down at the dirt, eyes wide. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no…”

Leanne grabbed her by the shoulders. “Ella, you can reverse it, right? Please tell me you can reverse this!”

“I can’t!” She looked as if she were crying, and Leanne couldn’t tell if there were tears running down her face or raindrops. Perhaps it was both. “Leanne, I would if I could, but I can’t! Gods, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this for you or her, please Leanne, you must believe me, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone…”

“Ella!” She held the girl close. “Focus. What do we have to do to save her?” Even as she said the words, however, she already knew the answer. Ella did her the courtesy all the same.

“We would need to complete the ritual.”

“You’re certain that’s the only option? To make her a vampire?”

Ella thought for a moment. “Your father, I’ve seen him wearing an amulet of Arkay. Is he a priest? Does he know a rite of purification or healing?”

Leanne shook her head. “He’s only a follower.”

“Then, well… Shaniera has only hours before she transforms… but with only a drop of my blood, she’d turn into a mad thrall. Her mind would be gone. She needs more from a vampire of my kind…” She took a shaky breath. “Leanne, even if we succeed… you know what that would mean for you and her, right? You would remain mortal; you would grow old and gray and pass on while she remains unchanged. She’ll live for centuries as an outcast…”

“No.” Leanne steeled herself. There’s no going back after this. “She won’t suffer it alone. You’re going to make me a vampire, too.”

“Leanne…” the vampire looked just as lost. “You need to understand what you’re asking. The diseases that cause vampirism are easy to cure. No one alive knows how to cure vampirism itself, or if that’s even possible.”

“I know.” No looking back. “It can’t be that bad, right? I thought vampires burn in the sun, but you never seemed bothered by it.”

Ella relaxed. “True. The disease that I was infected with, it’s very different from Porphyric Hemophilia. I don’t even know if it has a name yet, but those infected with it that are turned vampires don’t burn in the daylight. Instead, we get stronger at night.” She nodded to the corpses nearby. The Ash’abah who had died on his knees had been slowly leaning over, and now gravity finally won out and was pulling him the rest of the way down–and then his body stopped falling, leaning against nothing. The corpse rose slowly in the air, and Leanne looked to Ella, but she wasn’t even moving her hands. It had been clear from the sight of the frozen arm that Ella had magical capabilities, but this was beyond anything Leanne had ever seen. Effortlessly, Ella levitated both corpses into the air, and with the crash of thunder they jerked, limbs coming to life, and an intelligence filled their eyes. She lowered them to their feet, and they stood, viscera hanging from their horrible wounds but they stood all the same, and went to collect the weapons that had served them in life.

“You will be strong, like me… but, truthfully, I doubt my strength would be enough for every sword back at the manse. And make no mistake; every sword will try to stop us.”

“I would not hurt Shaniera’s family,” Leanne said. “If it can be helped.” And that included Ah’zuli. Cruel her words may have been, but she was almost a mother to Leanne. The people of the Farúk palace were her family as well.

“Of course. But before we do this, I need you to tell me something.” She stepped over to one of the zombies, drew a dagger from the sheath at his hip, and backed away into the water. “What is Shaniera to you?”

“I…”

“Come now, Leanne. We haven’t any time to waste. Is she only your ‘best friend’? I’m not sure vampirism is a price someone would be willing to pay for friendship… even the best sort of it.”

“What do you want me to say, Ella?” Her hand tightened into a fist. This woman had no right to question her like this… yet it was clear that Ella held all the cards, whether by design or by accident as she would have Leanne believe. Even naked and ankle-deep in a river, she was the most powerful creature Leanne had ever met, and her only chance to save Shaniera.

“I only want the truth.”

Her hand unclenched, all the tension moving to her throat. She’d cried enough today, hadn’t she? Yet it came out again, bittersweet tears with the truth that should have been said to Shaniera, long ago, now admitted as part of a last-ditch effort to save her. “She’s my… my… lover. She’s my lover, I love her, oh gods, I love her so much, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without her in it… so please, help me save her.”

The smile in Ella’s eyes may as well have sucked up what little light was around them. “There it is. Now, that is a wish I can grant.”

“So, what do I have to do? Let you drink my blood?”

“No.” Ella touched the tip of the dagger’s blade to the inside of her wrist, then ran it deep up her arm. The flesh opened wide, pouring blood in sheets into the water. The river drank it eagerly, but the blood did not flow with the current; it swirled around Ella’s feet, filling the shallows until she stood in a pool of red. Ella held out a hand.

“You must drink of mine.”

Leanne looked at the offered hand. She thought of Shaniera in the flames, and swallowed her fear. For her, she whispered silently. For her, I can do this. She took Ella’s hand, and the girl pulled her into the water. Ella drove the knife beneath the collar of her shift, cutting it open down the front, then pulled it off her shivering body. She pressed the knife into her hand, drew it up so that Leanne was holding the tip of the blade on her own wrist. Uncertainty threatened to seize her, but Ella placed a hand over hers and helped her run the knife through her skin. Leanne bit down, fighting the urge of her body to recoil from the pain, pushing the knife along, and at the end of the cut she was about to cry out, but Ella kissed her hard and fervent. She held her hand, interlocking their fingers, and bringing them up so that their arms touched, and the open wounds pressed together, and a shocking pain shot through Leanne as their blood raced into one another’s body, followed by an unbearable ecstasy. Ella’s body was cold to the touch, but her blood was hot, hotter than blood should have been. Ella put her other arm behind Leanne’s back, pulling her further out, then lowering her into the bloodied waters. She was swallowed whole, the black water shunting out the light of the moons. She felt two sharp points puncture her neck, injecting her. Her entire body had become a battlefield between pain and pleasure, raging for conquest. The conflict was terrible and sweet, savage and breathtaking. It was life, and she wanted more, needed more.

Look, and see. She obeyed, and the metallic water stung her eyes, filling her pupils, drowning her corneas. The blood raced inside her, coaxing every opening on her body to yield to it, snaking through her ears, rushing down her mouth, sliding up between her legs, and then it seeped through the pores of her skin. A cataclysm took hold of her; her body spasmed, and for a moment she felt fear more pure than she had ever known, a fear of more than death. The water was so cold.

Then, it wasn’t. She was warm, and when she blinked, she could see beyond the surface of the river. The night sky opened itself up to her. She rose from the water, and the forest hid no secrets from her. She saw what lurked in the shadows of the trees, smelled a dozen different bloods–yes, they were different, there was hers and Ella’s in the river and the blood she’d left from her feet running through the forest… she reached down and rubbed her soles, and found the torn flesh had mended. The cut on her arm was already fading into a scar. She looked into Ella’s eyes, and saw the reflection of a woman in them, a woman with short auburn hair and covered in blood. The woman looked just like her, except her eyes were red.

Chapter XII. “Exsanguine”

The night grew black and cold, and the fire raged. Hold a beast in a tiny pit for long enough, and it begins to lash at absolutely anything, and right now it hungered for a piece of meat dangled precariously over its pit. Her blood had started to flow in places, running down her legs and dripping into the fire’s bowels. It drank the drops eagerly, fueled by it, hungering for more. Drop her, it seemed to cry out. Let me swallow her whole. A few times, the girl lost consciousness, and her feet would hang just low enough to burn, but the man with the whip would work his fire magic and force the beast down. Everyone would wonder if that was the end, and then the girl would snap awake, hissing and screeching like nothing human, and they would have to continue.

It was Blane who saw them first. He was the closest to the back of the garden, pacing back and forth. They slid through hedges and lush flower beds silently, past the point where they were close enough to be seen, until they were close enough to be heard. Thirty feet away, Blane turned in his frenetic walk, his eyes passing over the darkness beyond the light of the fire, paused, and looked again. Uncertainty shifted to recognition, then confusion, and finally fear as he drew his weapon.

“Ella,” he said, then, “Leanne, get away from her!” Toren turned, then Ah’zuli. The Sentinel guards formed up around Prince Khara, who looked at Ella with a fear far more potent and personal. Over the fire, Shaniera’s struggle had grown weak, and her cries were quiet pleas for mercy, only occasionally breaking over the sound of the rain. But Leanne heard them all, from the moment they’d set foot back in the garden. It seemed she could hear everything.

“Leanne,” she heard her father call out. He didn’t seem to notice Ella at her side, but he did notice her nakedness, and the dagger in her hand, and the blood. It would be hard to miss the blood. “Gods, Leanne, what happened–” he began, and their eyes met, and by then he must have noticed the color in hers. “No…” he whispered, and Leanne heard it. “No.” He looked at Ella, then back at her. “Please, no…”

Xadoran brought the whip back, ready to strike again, but turned instead. The other Ash’abah moved to his sides. Ithko had a scimitar in each hand, and Salim’s crossbow was steady on them. Their faces were as hard and unmoved as their leader’s.

“I must admit, you had me fooled in that brown frock,” Xadoran called out to the senior of the vampires. “Ella, was it? I trust that the men I sent to find you gave their lives bravely.”

“It is.” Ella spoke calmly, but her voice carried far across the garden. “And they did, even if the fight they put up was a bit disappointing. I must admit, you savages ran me down hard. I had nearly given up, until these good people gave me refuge.”

“And look how you have repaid them.” He pointed the whip at Shaniera, dangling semi-conscious from the tree. “We have been busy trying to undo what you have done.”

“What I have done, thou canst not undo. She partook of my blood willingly. She will turn, and you will accomplish nothing but butchery through this ritual of yours.”

“Liar!” Ah’zuli cried out, cracking under despair. “Conniving, lying bitch!”

“Perhaps,” Ella admitted. “But about which part?”

Ah’zuli’s glare was enough to make Leanne feel cold again. “You will pay for what you have done to my daughter. Rodar, Hasan, Blane, bring me this traitor’s head!”

The fear in the men’s eyes was palpable, but they were courageous and honorable men of Hammerfell. Rodar and Hasan drew their swords and fell in line beside Blane, and the three advanced on them slowly. Even the prince drew his blade, and Ella laughed.

“Ah, the little prince wants to stick something else in me,” she taunted. “Perhaps I shall enjoy it this time?”

Ithko lowered herself into a blade-dancer’s stance, legs spread apart, swords held out, and shifted towards them. Salim followed slowly behind, the tip of the crossbow bolt never breaking the line with Ella’s head. None of them gave a second thought to Leanne. As they drew close, Xadoran’s good eye scanned the area around the girls, searching hard.

“Shaniera!” Leanne called out. I need to keep her distracted. “Look at me, please.” Her princess turned her head to the sound of her voice. Her eyes were puffy, but her face had no tears; the heat had dried them up. “Here is what is going to happen,” Leanne shouted, addressing everyone. “This madness will stop. We will take Shaniera, and she will be safe with us.” Her vision was almost too clear; it was impossible to avoid noticing the pure hatred in Ah’zuli’s eyes. Oddly though, that pain seemed much easier to keep down since she’d come out of that river. “Shaniera, my lady, I should have told you this sooner. I love you, do you hear me? I have always loved you, and I will continue to love you for the rest of our days.”

“She knows,” her father said, still trying to keep the ruse. “You are like her sister, you grew up together…”

“NO.” A deep, rushing gust billowed inside her, bringing out everything she’d wanted to say, to scream at these people for years. “We are nothing like sisters! I love her as you loved my mother, and as you, Ah’zuli, loved her father, and as you both love each other now, only my love for Shaniera eclipses all of those.” At the mention of Ah’zuli and Toren loving each other, the three men of the al-Farúk household paused in their advance. Ithko and Salim didn’t flinch. Xadoran was looking on with suspicion. Shaniera looked down at her, weak, but just barely lucid. She seemed to hear her words, she struggled to say something… that’s it, everyone, keep your eyes on us.

Shaniera strained to tuck her legs into her stomach to avoid the flames, and her body slowly turned back, and she screamed when she saw them. It made no matter; her attention had been held long enough. The zombies reached the fire pit, grabbing the granite tray and overturning the whole thing out from under Shaniera. It went crashing against the juniper tree, and the fire salts spilled everywhere, sending the tree and everything around it up in a blaze. Xadoran whirled around, raising his hands to try and control the flames. Salim and Ithko both looked back, but kept facing Ella. Rodar and Hasan looked back, and Blane turned half around as the flames filled the periphery where he knew his cousin hung helpless.

It was enough. Ella flew forward, feet light and silent on the grass, and leapt into a somersault with a quiet grace that took the breath out of the Ash’abah. Rodar and Hasan turned, tried to defend, but she was over their heads too soon, her hands swiping between them, and when she landed behind them the two guards staggered, choking, their throats opened wide. Blane’s face was showered in blood, and he rolled out blindly to avoid the falling men. Ella stood tall, her fingers stretched into gray claws, sharp as daggers and freshly coated in blood.

Hell broke loose. Leanne ran forward, leaving Blane to scramble around on his own, her heart pounding as a crossbow bolt whizzed an inch past her head. The prince and his guards held their blades up at her, but she kept charging. He was a red blur in her vision, melding with the image of him smiling when they stripped Shaniera while she screamed, and the thoughts of him trying to force himself on her when they were alone in the woods. Leanne gave herself over to the primal rage, letting out a scream that woke the dead, and she smelled the fear in his sweat and the piss he let loose in his breaches. She flew past the guards, their swords meeting nothing but the rush of air in her wake, and she was facing him down. She swung down against the flat of his blade, knocking it away, and then both hands were gripping him by the head as she tackled him to the ground. Her fingers had changed like Ella’s, nails hardened and sharpened like raven’s claws. She jammed her pointed thumbs right through Khara’s eyes, and drank up the scream that wrenched out of him, savoring the bastard’s pain and terror. She dug in until her knuckles were buried in the sockets and the claws broke through into the slimy mass of brain within, and she withdrew her hands and stood over the dying boy. It was enough to make the brave men of Sentinel lose their honor, and the four men took off running rather than attempt to avenger their prince.

Her father’s face shattered her ecstasy. He clutched at the amulet around his neck, and stood stalwart between Leanne and Ah’zuli, even though she had the sword and he had no weapon at all. He looked on the verge of breaking down, and the pounding blood in her head ceased.

“Father–ah!” She staggered, clutching at the bolt buried into her shoulder. The silver burned like fire, and she felt her new fangs throb, the teeth seeming to swell like flesh as the heat of battle took over. She turned to face down Salim, already reloaded and aiming for her head. This time, she saw the bolt coming, and ducked aside as it flew by, and charged. He loaded and fired another bolt, and she moved away. She moved her hands around and whispered the words in the way Ella had shown her on their way here, felt her blood tingle as the magic surged. She never thought she would ever know what it was like to cast a spell. She kept the magic charged in her hands as she bore down on him, and he readied his next shot.

The third time was the charm. Salim fired off to the side, and she dodged on instinct, right into the bolt’s path. It punctured her through the breast, just inches from her heart. She let out a cry as she stumbled, twisting around to land on her back so the bolt wouldn’t get pushed further in. Her hands clung to her chest as she looked around, saw nothing but sky, and then the boot was on her throat and Salim was aiming the crossbow down at her head. Time slowed as he loomed over her. She held up her hands before him, and he paused, likely expecting her to beg for mercy, but the word that escaped her lips was in a language neither of them knew. The magic in her hands released, launching a white-blue beam straight up. It screeched across his weapon, freezing the mechanisms solid, and the leaping trails of ice stretched into jagged ends that just barely reached his face. He staggered back, dropping the weapon beside her head, clutching his own. Leanne rose, and his hands came down from his face. There was a scratch across his forehead and a hole through his septum, but his eyes were still intact, and they were just as stoic as before. Leanne wondered if he would finally say something, but he spoke only with action, drawing his dagger to square off with the newly-made vampire.

He made the first move, slashing at her throat. She was far faster than she had ever been before, but the Ash’abah was faster than any human she had ever known. It took all her focus not to let her openings become killing blows, and slowly the dagger tallied its hits, little slashes across her arms and chest. The blade came down across her neck, swiftly tearing the surface skin–a hair closer and her throat would have been opened wide. The dagger spun in his hand and he jabbed down, going for her throat. She grabbed his hand, and they locked into a match of strength, and it was almost the same story as it had been with speed. Salim’s thick arms strained under his chainmail, forcing the steel closer to her. At the last second, she shifted and let the dagger fall past her, then used the momentum to push the blade through the arc, burying it into his abdomen. Salim grunted, heaving, his grip loosening. She twisted the dagger in his stomach, wrenched it to the side, then upwards, and Salim staggered away, trying to keep his guts from spilling out.

The fire was spreading across the garden, moving towards the manse. The walls were mostly marble and stone, but there were wooden beams holding the structure together. The tree had gone up completely, a hulking pillar of flame that loomed over like a hungry monster from the pits of Oblivion. The fire swept across the branch where Shaniera was suspended, eating away at the rope until it snapped, and she fell down, safe for now. Further away from the tree, Ithko was stumbling, smeared in blood. She had only one of her swords; the other was at her feet, and she kept trying to pick it up with a left hand that was no longer there, watering the grass with the blood pouring from the cleanly-cut stump of her arm. Just past her stood Ella, dancing around Xadoran’s fiery whip, hopping over the once-more slain bodies of the zombies. A black blade made of gloom and swirling blood was in her hand, so sharp that she was beheading flowers just from running by them with the blade at her side. Every time the whip cracked, she cackled, and each time it struck her she howled with glee.

From the side, Leanne caught Blane running at her, sword raised. As he drew close, his attention was pulled away, towards the fire creeping on the manse. He looked between the blaze and Leanne.

“Blane,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I must. What matters more to you: dying to try and kill me, or saving your family?”

His weapon shook. Honor compelled him in both directions, she knew. Finally, he settled his mind, and sheathed his sword.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said. “May our paths never cross again, or one of us will have to die.” With that, he sprinted towards the manse as the fire began to creep over the walls. Leanne gritted her teeth, yanking the crossbow bolts out of her, and turned to the duel between Xadoran and Ella. Time to finish this. She took a step forward, then felt something moving near. Someone was behind her. She turned just as the pair of arms threw something around her neck, and a searing pain flooded over her body, bringing her to the ground. She flailed about, clawing at the amulet, trying to get it off. Her father knelt beside her. His amulet was gone, he’d put it on her, the amulet of Arkay, who abhors all undead. The light of Aetherius was burning her, rejecting her continued existence. Toren wrapped her in a tight hug, pinning her arms in place.

“Please, my lord,” he was saying. “Divine ruler of life and light, please help my Leanne.”

“Father, don’t!” Leanne cried. She tried to shove him off, and felt blood on her claws, thick and hot. Toren’s mouth dropped open, his gasp cut short, his grapple loosening. As he fell away from her, she ripped the amulet from her neck and held her father in her arms. She tried to stop the blood from pouring out of the wound in his chest, the wound she had made.

“No, no, no, no, no, father, please! Stay with me!”

Toren’s eyes found hers. His body heaved, his cough stained with blood. “Take… care…… of… her………” and his voice trailed off, thin and fading, his eyes drifting across the stars above. For a moment, there was nothing but her and his body in her arms, and then a wail of anguish shattered the world. Leanne wasn’t sure if it was hers or someone else’s, but when she looked up, Ah’zuli was staring at her. The walls had finally burst, and the woman was no longer robed in dignity, her naked pain simmering, a pain she had no intention of sharing. Ah’zuli raised the sword, tipped the blade at Leanne’s throat, and charged. Leanne didn’t move. She squeezed her father one last time, and closed her eyes. The tears squeezed through as she waited.