Page 27 of The Wand of Lore

“I am finding you irresistible,” he whispered.

“Thank the goddesses,” she responded, and then she was on top of him, pushing him back to the earth, burying his face in a flutter of kisses. His shirt was on the ground, and he rolled her over and kissed her back, pushing his tongue into her mouth. He hiked up the skirt of her dress and kissed her swollen clitoris and flicked it with his velvety tongue before pulling out his cock. In one quick thrust, he was inside her. They undulated together, rhythmically keeping the beat to an ancient song. She rolled her eyes up to the heavens and sighed, the pleasure rocking her until she yearned to orgasm. She thrust her hips into his as he slammed her until she spasmed around him. She collapsed on the ground with a sleepy grin.

“Not yet,” Marvin purred, and thrust into her again. She tightened around him and felt him harden, then shudder with pleasure. He lay down on top of her, and she held him against her body as he rested inside of her. Exhaustion overcame her, and together they slept under the warm autumn sun.

Chapter Eighteen: Vaylor

They rode hard through that day and the next, stopping only overnight, when again they made love under the stars. Vaylor checked for spies in the vicinity, and Gwenneth sprinkled protective drops of tincture around the perimeter, but they found no sign of anyone, despite Greyson’s threats that any harm to him would invite scrutiny from multitudes of additional spies. Apparently, Greyson’s well-being hadn’t been that much of a concern to the king after all. In fact, the king was likely too selfish to care much about anyone’s death; all the same, the smallest twinge of regret flickered through Vaylor as he kept replaying the slaughter of his old mentor.

When he had run his sword through Greyson’s chest, he had almost collapsed alongside the dead man. Greyson’s body had been heavy, and the loss felt like a puncture wound in Vaylor’s own body. What had he done, he wondered? Then he had seen Gwenneth’s eyes, wide and surprised and afraid, and he had known that he would have killed Greyson a hundred times again if necessary to keep her safe. His next task was to figure out who he was without Greyson sending him orders, following him, berating him at the smallest perceived slight. But that was a project for another day; for now, he had to getGwenneth to the castle, help her find the wand, and hope that it would be enough.

Though he had shared the secret about Greyson with Gwenneth, he still kept others to himself. He was the son of the king, and he was under orders to bring this very witch to the castle or live out the rest of his life sentence of banishment, humiliation, and menial tasks. Though there seemed to be no spies from the castle following them, and the goblins were most likely too disorganized without Greyson to give them chase, it was only a matter of time before the king replaced Greyson, and Vaylor would spend the rest of his life followed by some other henchman, unable to reclaim his identity, much less his lands. He would never be free.

But he was tantalizingly close to winning his title back. He could come home to his father’s welcome and be Prince Vaylor within days. All he had to do was turn in Gwenneth. He squeezed her waist as they rode onward.

He had to turn her in, he had no choice. Except he couldn’t, not anymore, after everything they had been through, after she had listened to his most shameful secret and he had traced the peaks and valleys of her breasts. Then again, either way, his father would find and claim her, but at least if he brought her, he could plead for her freedom. He could help her find her wand first so she stood a chance. He could tip her off in some way, somehow. He inhaled the scent of her hair and felt as though a rock dropped from his chest to his belly. He had to at least warn her to be on her guard.

He cursed out loud at his dilemma.

“What is it?” asked Gwenneth, alarmed.

“Just worried about the king’s spies. I don’t want them watching you,” he lied.

It was getting harder to keep the truth from her, but what would she think of a prince rejected by his own father, sent tohunt her down? He shook his head. She was going to go to the castle no matter what, whether or not Vaylor turned her in or escorted her or even told her. Why worry her? He could tell her the truth when they were closer, and he would stay at her side in case she needed his sword. It was better that way.

The route close to the castle was achingly familiar. Vaylor’s chest clenched when they passed a grove he had loved to hide in as a boy when nobody seemed to want him. Just ahead, the road snaked right to the towering gray outer walls of the city. This was their last opportunity to talk before it was too late. Vaylor closed his eyes, squeezed his fists with determination, then let out a yell before he could change his mind.

“Woah!” he called as he pulled Sir Henry to a stop.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Let’s stop here for a moment. We’re close to the castle, and we should wait here until it starts getting dark, so we can sneak in without anyone noticing.”

“What if someone finds us?”

“They won’t. There’s a giant tree in the back of this grove where I once hid for days. Nobody ever found me.”

“Who were you hiding from for days back there?” Gwenneth asked as she dismounted and her feet hit the ground.

“I told you, I wasn’t much wanted as a boy.”

Gwenneth put a hand on his shoulder, and he felt goosebumps across his skin. “I love the way your touch feels,” he admitted with a sad smile. If only this moment could last forever and he never had to confess what a selfish person he really was.

“Mmm” she murmured, and they leaned in and exchanged a soft, long kiss on the grassy ground.

He wrapped his arms around her and marveled at how perfectly she fit against his chest, and he knew he had to do whatever it took to protect her. “Gwenneth, it’s not going to be easy in the capital.”

“We’re planning to break into Gorenth Castle undetected to search through the hidden passageways and find my deceased mother’s missing super wand. Of course it won’t be easy. But we have to do it—otherwise I’ll lose my sister . . . and you. I won’t lose you both, Marvin; I refuse.” Vaylor hesitated. This woman sacrificed so much for the people she loved. It would be a small thing to sacrifice his own future for her. He had to tell her now; there was no going back. He sucked in a deep breath, then asked, “Do you know of the king’s witches?”

“What do you mean?”

“The king has an army of witches he keeps locked up so he can control his subjects. You should know—it’s ghastly. If the king catches you, you would be a tempting addition to his army.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her purple irises holding an unspoken question. “No, I hadn’t heard of this. I’ve heard rumors of witches disappearing, and nobody really knows why. Honestly, I assumed they were all killed, burnt alive while hungry villagers watched on. Sadly, that is nothing new.”

“Some have been. But the king has found a way to control the witches. They say he keeps them in cages and they subsist on stale bread and water. They’re wretchedly thin and haggard, a look I’m sure the king cultivates on purpose. They wear magically enhanced collars that cut them off from their magic so that they can only cast when they are allowed. Most of the people in Gorenth don’t understand the witches are captives, so the people are more afraid of witches in the city than they are in the countryside, and with good reason. In Gorenth, witches are executioners. They are also builders, inquisitors, and soldiers, and everything they do is with the knowledge that their own deaths constantly hang over their heads.”

Gwenneth shook her head. “But that’s not how magic works. It’s meant to be peaceful goddess magic from the teeming earth. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m a talented witch, and even Ican only perform the most basic offensive magic. When witches channel darker things, there must be consequences, even if they are doing it under duress. Magic always has a price.”

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