Page 129 of A Crown of Lies

Mercia took the binder, unwound the cord holding it together, and flipped it open. Her eyes widened as she took in a beautifully illuminated page. There were bright images of flowers in the margin, gold decorative letters, and the text was written in looping calligraphy. She couldn’t read the words, as they were written in a language she didn’t know, but it was the most beautiful page she had ever seen. Mercia flipped through the binder. Not every page was so detailed, but many were. There were full page images of people or battles scattered throughout.

“This is stunning,” Mercia said in awe. “You do all this yourself?”

Saya beamed. “Well, not the originals, obviously. I’m only copying the original manuscripts. I do the best I can with the art, but the translations are the real magic. This is a ballad about a warrior queen written in High Savarran. I’m translating it into Elvish. The original was terribly damaged in a flood, I’m afraid,” she said, collecting the binder. “It was sent to me. I reproduce books in detail. The only problem is, to begin the process, I first have to destroy the original. It’s not a particularly useful talent, but once I’ve consumed the book, I can recreate it from memory, text, images… Even the cover.”

“When you say you consume it…”

Saya blushed slightly. “I mean it quite literally.”

“Amazing,” Mercia said, looking over all the binders. “How does one even discover such a talent?”

“It’s an old but rare talent,” Saya said with a shrug. “The Runecleavers have aptitude tests when we’re young where we interact with various materials. I don’t understand all of it. I’m not very good with magic theory. I do this, and little else. Not very useful outside of bureaucracy, I’m afraid, which is largely what I do for Niro. The restorations, I do for me.”

“May I?” Mercia gestured to the shelves of binders.

“Please do.”

While Mercia perused the illuminated pages, Saya kept her distance, her hands neatly folded in front of her.

“Do you regret it?” she asked at length.

Mercia lowered the binder with a frown. “Regret what?”

“What happened between us at the Starfall party.” She stepped in closer. “Letting me kiss those pretty lips, letting me touch you… Making me want you.”

Mercia’s throat was suddenly dry and tight, but the nerves that had her on edge dissipated to nothing as Saya reached out, coiling a stray strand of Mercia’s dirty blond hair around a finger. “No,” she said in earnest. “I was afraid at first of what it might mean, how it might hurt Aryn.”

“And now?”

Their eyes met, locked, a strange, warm calm spreading through Mercia. It was almost as if every moment in her life had been leading up to this one, like this was meant to be. “Now, I’m not afraid of anything.”

Her pulse fluttered loudly in her ears as Saya took a step forward, forcing Mercia back. She bumped against a bookshelf.

“Now what, Mercia?” Saya’s voice dropped an octave, sending an involuntary shudder through Mercia. She planted her hands on either side of Mercia’s face. “What do I do with you?”

Mercia swallowed. “I…” Her face heated, and she turned away. “I’ve never done this before. With another woman.”

Saya’s smile was different. Gone was the warm and innocent smile with its cute dimples. In its place was the smile of a hungry wolf. She directed Mercia’s attention back to her by the chin and held her there. “I’ll gladly be your first, your last, your only if that’s what you desire,” she said and pressed her lips to Mercia’s.

Mercia was lost in that kiss, the aching sweetness of it, the softness of Saya’s body pressed against hers. She pulled the elvish woman tight against her, tongue plunging deeper into her mouth. Saya’s hands ran over the curve of Mercia’s breasts, traced out her hips before gripping the swell of her ass. It was as if they had both been starving for that touch, and only just now discovered it.

They were both panting when they parted, but they couldn’t stay apart for long. Saya gripped Mercia by the hand and pulled her to another sliding door in the wall. The room beyond was dark and quiet, but as Mercia’s eyes adjusted, she recognized the familiar trappings of a bedroom.

Saya kissed her again, this time more tentatively, the gentle press of lips a question. When Saya moved to pull back, Mercia nipped at her bottom lip. She was rewarded with a low, pleasured groan from Saya, who wrapped her arms around Mercia’s waist and walked them both to the bed. She must’ve miscalculated the distance though, as her eyes flared wide, and she gasped as they went down together. Mercia forgot her nerves as they fell and tumbled onto her back, laughing up at the ceiling.

Saya leaned over her with her big, beautiful smile. She caged Mercia’s body with her arms and straddled her waist, but Mercia didn’t feel trapped. It was Saya’s eyes, the intensity of her gaze that held her. Her smile faded and Saya leaned down to kiss her, this time more urgently. When they parted, Saya sat up and reached for the clip that held her hair in place, pulling it free. Mercia held her breath as Saya’s long, silky black hair tumbled down her shoulders.

Her delicate fingers went to the ties that kept her dress in place, and their eyes met again as she undid them. Once all the ties were loose, the dress fell open in the middle. Mercia reached to push it back from Saya’s shoulders, letting it pool around her waist.

In the light, Saya was beautiful, but in the dark, she was magnificent. Her lovely pale skin glowed with the pink flush of life and warmth and her collarbone… Mercia had never thought she would ever be attracted to something so strange, but there was something about the prominent shape of Saya’s, the way her neck and shoulders flowed down to her chest… She was made like a beautiful waterfall without a single rough edge except for there, and Mercia couldn’t stop staring at it. She traced her fingers over the lines under Saya’s skin and down over the thin strip of gauzy white fabric that covered her breasts.

Saya lifted Mercia’s fingers to her lips, kissing them gently. Holding Mercia’s eyes, she reached to her back. The strip of cloth over her chest fell away. Saya’s breasts were small, delicate, and perfect, just like the rest of her, the nipples the color of the cherry blossoms outside. Mercia wondered briefly if they would taste like cherries and sat up to check, sucking one between her teeth. She didn’t taste like cherries, but she did taste sweet and as soft as she looked. Saya let out a tiny feminine gasp and arched her back.

A pleased rumble bubbled up from Mercia’s throat. Before she truly knew what she was doing, she closed her hands on the mounds of Saya’s ass and pivoted with her hips. Saya gasped again, then laughed as Mercia flipped them so that Saya was the one on her back.

“And here I thought you said you had never done this,” Saya teased.

Mercia leaned forward and caught her lip in a gentle nibble. “I haven’t, but I’ve always been a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go for it. Will you tell me if I do something you don’t like?”

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