Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbed)

“Does it bother you at all that Colin has delayed us on purpose?” Tybalt asked quietly once he and Dero were behind Sound Void.

The dark elf shrugged. “There have been advantages to being trapped here for a couple of days more than we were expecting. The dragon will be here by sunset, the King’s pets informed him. That’s good enough.” She shot Tybalt a mischievous look. “Or are you going to tell me you haven’t been enjoying getting to know the Princess?”

The necromancer made himself shrug.

“She’s perfectly charming, innocent, and sweet,” he said. “All that a king would want his daughter to be, undoubtedly.”

“And you find her attractive, and so do I. She’ll be fun to corrupt and twist against her father.”

Tybalt waved the words off. “I find any number of women attractive, but with any more, I won’t know what to do with them. I’m not some sort of breeding stud, to rut eight hours a day.”

“Except with that lamia’s venom,” Dero said, chuckling. “Then it’s twelve hours, nonstop.”

“Anyway, I’d probably give a tentative yes to Colin’s proposal for a marriage alliance, if he doesn’t fuck us over in the negotiation with Eolas, but I’m doing it for the troops he can spare for us, not anything else. I know why you’re happy we stayed an extra couple of days.”

Dero looked away with faux innocence.

“You’re going to piss Colin off way more than I might with whatever I end up doing,” Tybalt said. “Unless we deflower his daughter and I don’t marry her.”

“Then he’d probably go to war with you,” the dark elf said. “Whereas what I’ve been doing these last few days will mildly annoy him.”

Tybalt shook his head. “Then his priorities are crazy. But you know his character better than I do. The wood elves are challenging his authority and surviving anyway. I suppose you can also endure his wrath.”

“You’re right. I worry for my fragile husband-to-be and our young, growing family. I’ll be all right, though.”

She rose.

“Going out again?” he asked.

“That’s right,” she said.

“Back in time to greet the ancient dragon?”

“Probably.”

***

While Dero was out in the city, Tybalt took the journal on vampiric fertility restoration into the common area of the palace and read a bit more of it.

It was fairly light reading, deliberately constructed in a similar style to his necromancy book, Unholy Forces, probably intended for a defiant necromancer to read it.

The principles of fixing vampire fertility were deceptively simple. That was not to say easy. Restoration of fertility was explicitly described by the journaler as the most ambitious use that he had ever discovered for the Undead Repair skill.

It was much more difficult than what Tybalt had done for his mummies, returning their tongues to functionality. That had been as simple as massaging a single muscle from deathly stiffness back into usability.

Imbuing fertility was more akin to restoring an entire bodily system.

Seems like a very invasive procedure, Tybalt thought.

“Um, what are you reading, Your Majesty?”

The necromancer looked up, though he already recognized the voice of the woman who was speaking. He had been reading for a while before she found him this time. Usually, Liora showed up very quickly once Tybalt was in the common area - which was why he was out here, of course.

“This is the book your father gave me, Princess,” he replied. “About restoring fertility for vampires.”

She sat down on the couch beside him and pressed against his arm, leaning into him almost accidentally.

“I see. Um, would you care to hear some more elven poetry?” she asked awkwardly.

He smiled. “No, thank you. It was lovely before, but I am trying to focus on my research. It is for your benefit as well as mine, I imagine.”

She looked away, but Tybalt thought he caught her trying to stifle a giggle at his vague sexual reference.

The forced propriety was an interesting aspect of talking to a princess. She wanted to be perceived as innocent and demure, and it seemed to genuinely be the case, but it was hard to judge how far that extended.

Liora was certainly extremely sheltered.

She had mentioned at their second dinner together that she’d spent decades studying elvish poetry - it seemed to mostly be by wood elves, from things she’d said, but he inferred that the high elves were touchy about that. Then, when he had expressed a slight interest in it, she had spent a few hours reciting some of her favorites, by heart, in the original elvish.

She translated some of them at his request, but after a while, he just let her talk. The elven tongue was beautiful untranslated, and she had a melodious, honeyed voice.

“What exactly does this mean?” Liora said, pointing at a random place on the page Tybalt was reading. He knew it was just an excuse to bend a little bit closer so that he could smell her perfume as she moved her neck past his shoulder. She smelled sweet and salty, like blood and chocolate. Whether she intended it or not, he could also see down the simple dress she was wearing around the palace, to her creamy white cleavage. She was even paler than a normal high elf, being a vampire.

She was not, as Tybalt had acknowledged to Dero, unappealing, even if these tricks were too basic to be effective against him.

“That part describes the female reproductive system,” the necromancer replied, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand back from the book. “I suspect you are familiar with its basic functioning, having grown up with one.”

She reddened slightly.

“The book, it was written by one of your people, in your language rather than elvish,” she said, looking away demurely. “I have no way of knowing for certain what it says, being only somewhat competent in reading Nietian.”

And yet you and everyone else I’ve met here has spoken Nietian perfectly well. I haven’t heard anyone speak a word in any other language except for you reciting poetry.

He glanced back down at the page, then snorted.

“There was also a diagram underneath,” he said.

“I am not, um—”

“You’re good at being flustered,” Tybalt said.

“Are you trying to say you think I’m putting on an act?” Liora asked, looking up at him and blinking with an expression of surprise, her face all wounded innocence.

“I certainly hope so,” he said.

Surprise and then mild annoyance flashed across her face as she grasped his meaning.

“I ought to bite you for speaking so,” she muttered.

“Now I believe you’re not putting on an act,” Tybalt said.

She wrinkled her nose at him.

“Do you treat Princess Dero this way?” she asked.

“Of course. She wouldn’t accept anything less. Actually, I suspect I’m much coarser with her. I’ve only just met you, after all.”

The Princess looked at him doubtfully, but her long, pointed ears perked up before Tybalt could say anything more.

“I hear them,” she said, a note of excitement slipping into her voice.

“Hear who?” he asked.

“The dragon and Kamira!” she exclaimed, springing up. “They must be close!”

Tybalt stood, and she grabbed his hand and started pulling him down the hall -  then jerked her hand back as if scalded, giving him a surprised look.

“Come on,” Tybalt said, grabbing her hand again and rolling his eyes.

He was fairly certain Liora was genuinely innocent.

But pretending to be scandalized by having accidentally held his hand was a little too much, even for a princess.

***

As Tybalt and Liora emerged into the palace courtyard, they saw the other members of the Royal Family were already out, gathered in a semi-circle along with the same key nobles that King Colin had introduced to Tybalt over the last several days.

The dragon’s wingbeats were incredibly loud now, as the great creature descended.

Tybalt swallowed and forcefully reminded himself that this was neutral territory, that the dragon was here to negotiate under an understanding of truce.

Since he was effectively on his own here, the necromancer couldn’t afford a second confrontation with Eolas right now.

Where is Dero? Tybalt thought.

Almost as soon as he asked himself the question, he felt the dark elf practically materialize at his elbow, on the opposite side from the High Elf Princess.

Where have you been? Well, I guess I know the answer to that. With the dark elves again; I remember that was where you were going.

Dero took his hand in hers, and Tybalt raised an eyebrow at that - she wasn’t usually that touchy-feely - until he looked down and caught where Dero’s eyes were. The dark elf was watching Liora, who reached over and grasped Tybalt’s other hand again as soon as she saw Dero doing it.

Ah, this is more of Dero’s subtle manipulation. I’ll need to get used to her being subtle, I guess, if this continues.

As Eolas landed, all of the nobles except the royalty knelt as if they were appearing before their King.

King Colin himself simply smiled.

“Welcome home, daughter!” he shouted. “And welcome back to my humble Kingdom, dear Eolas!”

The dragon touching down made a loud crunching noise as a few tiles shattered despite his attempt to set himself delicately on the ground.

The other elven princess, who Tybalt had seen on the dragon’s back before, hopped off of Eolas’s neck, and Liora ran up and embraced her.

They started rapidly chattering in elvish. It was all nonsense to Tybalt, and he wasn’t sure why they had switched from Nietian - he was fairly certain the elves all spoke it - until he realized that Kamira, the younger princess, was looking back at him surreptitiously with certain exchanges. He also caught his name.

Oh, they’re talking about me.

He looked down at Dero, who just grinned wickedly and put a finger to her lips.

You’d better tell me later…

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Colin - I mean, Your Majesty - I hope you have been well.”

“I have been having the time of my life with your negotiating counterpart, venerable one,” Colin replied with an obviously affected formality.

“You certainly look cozy enough together,” Eolas said, eyes darting back and forth between Colin, the princesses, Tybalt, and Dero.

“Oh, we’re all becoming fast friends,” Colin said. “I feel certain that I can help clear up the misunderstandings that brought you and His Majesty, the Beastking, into conflict in the first place.”

“I suppose I am glad you appear to be getting along with the necromancer.” Even as the dragon spoke, his head shifted with an expression that felt like grudging acceptance.

Yes, accept the legitimacy of my position and authority! Tybalt thought. Heads of state should get along, and dragons should mind their own affairs!

“I always prefer peace over violence, except when the violence prevents something worse,” Eolas continued. “Speaking of unexpected agitation, are you aware of a great commotion in your industrial district?”

Tybalt looked down at Dero, but her expression was a study in apparent innocence.