Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbed)

Liora smiled as Tybalt separated from her.

It had been a chaste kiss, but she liked the smell and feel of him, the pressure of his lips against hers. For an arranged match, this seemed to be starting out well, including the physical aspects - and that was not at all simply because she felt like she had been waiting forever to be paired with someone.

There was a little part of her that wanted to bite into the necromancer’s lips and taste him more intimately, drink from him, but she held it in check.

She had a lifetime of experience controlling the beast within her. Her mother had fed her on mingled blood and breastmilk. Her first playdates had needed to be closely monitored so that Liora did not consume them.

The High Elf Royal Family’s condition was a secret from most of their subjects. It had to be that way until her father had laid the groundwork to make their whole society accepting of the undead.

“Finally,” she said.

She smiled at him, and he seemed pleased at the sight - though he couldn’t know what she was thinking, of course.

He turned away, banished the representative of the Death God from the altar, and then there was dancing. It proceeded in the same order that Tybalt had cloaked his wives, so Liora was forced to wait her turn and watch as every other woman danced with her new husband before she did.

That was the same order the ceremony had followed, and realistically, she knew that she was the least favored right now as well. She and the necromancer hardly knew each other, and all but one of these other women was not only sleeping with him but also bore his children inside their wombs.

It still rankled a bit, this notion of sharing a man. High elves were usually monogamous, and she was the heir to the throne! Her father had taken hours selling his sudden inspiration to his Queen and Princess. At least Tybalt was poised to become powerful, and his looks were not disagreeable.

She could understand how other women had fallen into bed with him simply by being in his orbit, and he was apparently honorable enough to keep them afterward.

But other women were not her.

I will not always be last for you, she thought with determination.

She had some ambitions, like any woman of high birth. Dero would be a rival, of course, and the others had their own holds over him. But Liora expected she would have little trouble in dominating the others over time.

Eventually, she would be the head wife.

As Liora watched, Tybalt danced in turn with each of his brides. When he stopped dancing with one, they paired off with one of those he had already danced with, so that none was left idle for long. Dero danced with Kistana and Vidalia with Mariella as the necromancer shared time with Victoria. Finally, he separated from the younger foxgirl and walked back over to the altar. Liora barely noticed it, but the dragon woman, who had been hanging around the periphery of the dancing, walked over to Victoria and began dancing with her, apparently since they were the odd ones out.

The elven vampire was practically ready to jump out of her seat by the time Tybalt made it to her. She made herself speak more slowly, be more dignified, in defiance of that impulse.

“May I have this dance, husband?”

Liora looked up at Tybalt with a little smile on her face.

Inside, she felt a bit uneasy about being last, but she had kept her mouth shut and waited her turn.

Now he took her hand and guided her to the dance floor, and she reaped her reward. With one hand on his waist and the other around his neck, she followed his every move perfectly, melding her body to his at appropriate moments, trying to impress him with her grace.

Liora was a good dancer. She knew that.

He smiled, and she braced to react to a compliment.

“Are you getting along well with the others?” Tybalt asked.

She made herself return the smile, though the question was annoying.

“Oh, they have been very welcoming, husband,” she said in a formal tone.

“Just call me Tybalt, Liora,” he replied. “We are married now, so we might as well start acting familiar with each other.”

“Of course, Tybalt.”

Soon we will establish proper ceremonial protocols so that people outside our family do not use your given name. The necromancer was generally surprisingly free casual about how others addressed him. Then again, he was not born to rule. It probably doesn’t come naturally yet.

“I know this has to all be strange to you,” the necromancer said in an understanding voice as they swayed in time to the music.

“Strange?”

“Marrying a man you only just met.”

“I was expecting that since I was a young girl, Tybalt.” He dipped her, and she looked him in the eyes and batted her eyelashes coquettishly. “I’m not disappointed.”

He pulled her back up, his smile unchanged, but she thought she was having some effect.

“Well, good. I would hate to disappoint. How about the fact that there are other wives?”

Her smile faltered, but only for a moment.

“That will take some getting used to,” she admitted. “But it’s not as if I have any other choice.”

“I appreciate the positive attitude,” he said in a neutral tone. She thought he might be a little bit suspicious of her response, underneath that. “You’re adjusting well to the desert heat?”

“It’s not quite as pleasant as a constant, gentle breeze,” Liora acknowledged. “But I have always wanted to see the world outside my father’s islands, and now, with you, I can. It won’t always be deserts, since you aim to expand…”

And so on.

He was clearly trying to be considerate of her new situation. The conversation was surprisingly banal - surprising, because with her superior hearing, Liora had overheard parts of some of his conversations with the others. Tybalt was an interesting person. Passionate, vengeful, loyal to his loved ones, and cruel to his enemies.

But with her, he asked about how she was adjusting to the weather.

It affirmed that he and Liora were still next to strangers, which felt a bit cold. But they would warm up to one another eventually, she was certain.

If anything, there was an honesty to the conversation they were having. He didn’t pretend to have an unearned intimacy with her. He was considerate but reserved.

Perhaps he had a few of the natural qualities of a ruler after all.

Off at the edges of the wedding, Liora could hear ogres squabbling. When the dance brought her to where she could actually see them, she saw they were actually physically brawling. It was two males, fighting while a female watched with an amused look on her face.

Liora could guess the context from the words she overheard and the visual before her.

Two males fighting to sleep with a female, she thought scornfully. So uncivilized!

Then the horde leader who Tybalt had defeated the other day stepped into view. Liora’s jaw dropped as the ogre quickly dealt the two troublemakers blows to the head with her club - one for each male - and then delivered a rebuke to the female as the males lay senseless on the ground.

Gods, I don’t think they’ll get up. Well, I suppose she did what needed to be done.

The dance shifted suddenly to another space as another dancing couple stepped too close to them, forcing them to pivot. Liora artfully rested a hand on Tybalt’s chest as if to steady herself. She let it linger a moment or two too long.

It was a fun game, trying to be subtly flirtatious but in a deniable way. The high elves had long ago made the game of love into an art. That was why the humans referred to open-mouthed kissing as “elven style,” though high elf culture had long since turned away from most public displays of affection.

They hadn’t been dancing nearly long enough when Liora spotted the short, slender Dero approaching them, holding a chalice carefully in both hands.

“Tybalt, the others are ready to make our escape from the party and, uh, get the night started,” the dark elf said as she reached them. “Here’s a little something to wet your whistle.”

She extended her arm holding out the goblet. Liora could see it was full of red wine. Tybalt and Dero exchanged a familiar look. There was a sensuality to it, noticeable even in that brief glance. Back at the palace in Nialf, they had been a bit notorious for their loud and lengthy sex sessions, another area where Liora was behind. But there seemed to be more to the communication than that.

If Liora had to guess, Dero was making a sort of inside joke that went completely over the vampire’s head. Was the word “whistle” significant in some way? Or was it the bit about escaping the party? The thought that they were communicating in Liora’s presence without her understanding what was being said annoyed her. How long would she be an outsider for? The longer this pattern continued, the harder it would be to break. You couldn’t be the leader and an outsider at the same time. At some point you had to break in.

“The others, or you, Dero?” Tybalt asked teasingly.

“It has been a few days, and pregnancy does have a certain effect on me,” the dark elf said, shrugging.

“I was hoping we could dance for a bit longer,” Liora said, simpering, running a finger through her long, pale blonde hair, and leaning against Tybalt’s chest again. “Do you really want to start drinking now? It’s barely noon.”

“Oh, I really should, um, take my medicine,” the necromancer said with a smirk. “Believe me, it won’t, um, slow me down. If anything, it will give me more energy. Give the afternoon - and the night - more flavor.”

Dero chuckled and held the cup out more insistently.

“That’s right,” she coaxed, giving him a little wink. “You know you want to. And then come away with me and the others.”

Liora was too flabbergasted to respond. Dero was trying to steal Tybalt in the middle of a dance!

“I am dancing with your fellow Queen, Dero,” Tybalt said gently.

“I’ll do that thing you like,” the dark elf said.

“Which one?” he asked immediately. Tybalt’s head snapped back, and he looked back at Liora as if slightly embarrassed - as if he’d just realized he had forgotten she was there.

“Any? All? Who knows?”

“You’re a tease.”

“I’m teasing you, but I’m not a tease, because you know I’ll actually do the stuff I’m teasing. Maybe my judgment is impaired. Time for you to take advantage…”

“What about Liora? If the rest of us go off, she’s just stuck in the middle of the party by herself.”

“Liora can come with us,” Dero said.

“What?”

“Um, I think you’re referencing sexual matters,” Liora cut in delicately. “I understand that as part of your agreement with my family, our husband and I are not, um, consummating the marriage yet. I’m not sure—”

The dark elf looked at Liora  and said something that stopped her in midsentence. “You want to learn how to please your man, right?”

I was given perfectly good instructions by my tutor, you little trollop! I do not need lessons!

But Liora forced herself to grin and bear the dark elf’s teasing. The time would come when she paid Dero back for it, threefold.

She turned and looked at the necromancer, then spoke in a studied demure tone.

“I suppose I should, even if we’re not meant to be intimate yet.”

“See, she’s happy to learn,” Dero said, grinning. “She might even enjoy it.”

Enjoy it…?

“Fine,” Tybalt said, shaking his head. He took the chalice from the dark elf’s hand and quaffed it in an instant. “Dero, you’ll be last.”

“What, hey! You’re making me wait? After what I said? What the fuck did I do?”

“I just want to reward you extra, after everyone else, for all your efforts negotiating with King Colin,” Tybalt said. “I’ll save plenty of energy for you.”

“Oh… uh, all right.” She sounded uncertain, as if trying to figure out if she was being played in some way.

“Let’s go, then.”

Tybalt let go of Liora, and Dero took his place, entwining her arm with Liora’s.

Both women followed Tybalt as he walked toward the others.

Liora had the feeling it was going to be a strange afternoon.