The Onyx Throne - Book One

Mitchell walked to the door and stared at the two small crystals set into the stone. They were obviously some sort of mechanism to control it but they weren’t labeled. Not that he would have been able to understand the language if they had been. Learning to read and write was just another thing on his ever-growing list of things to do.

One crystal was yellow, the other red, and both were about the size of his thumbnail. Picking the red one at random, he touched it and felt a very small tingle where the pad of his middle finger made contact with the gemstone. There was a small click inside the wall and it slid smoothly into a recess.

Mitchell was a little surprised to find Allora on the other side of the door rather than Lethelin. He noticed a somewhat sour look on her face, but then again, she usually had that expression so he shouldn’t be surprised. However, there was a tension around her eyes and brow that he didn’t often see. Something was bothering her.

“Oh… Umm, hi, Allora. I thought this was Lethelin’s room.”

“It is. I was just having a conversation with her and I wanted to see how you were doing. May I come in?”

Mitchell peered behind Allora to see Lethelin getting slowly to her feet from a chair and wincing while her hand went to her lower back. She glanced at the door but didn’t meet Mitchell’s eyes.

“What had gone on in there?” Mitchell wondered.

Looking back to Allora he said, “Yeah, of course.”

He stepped back and she walked past him. The smell of her freshly washed skin filled his nose. It wasn’t the same as his citrus smell, hers was more floral. Her hair, now clean and properly brushed, was pulled back in a ponytail and it shimmered in the soft light of his room. She was wearing a robe almost identical to his and the thought of her athletic body being naked underneath was enough to almost make him giddy.

The door slid shut behind him as Allora walked to the center of the room.

“It is almost the same as mine. I hope you did not find the controls too confusing. I know from my time on your world that you do not have bathing facilities like this.”

Allora gestured to the bathing pool and the controls.

“No, it was fine,” Mitchell said. “The lever and buttons are easy enough to figure out.”

Allora gave him one of her rare smiles.

“I would… uh, offer you something to drink but I don’t have anything here.”

Allora raised an eyebrow almost playfully.

“Do not be so sure.”

She went over to the bed, leaned down slightly, and Mitchell saw her thumb another crystal set into the wall that he hadn’t noticed before. A small panel popped open and swung to the side. Mitchell walked up behind Allora and stared curiously as she withdrew two small clay jugs that sloshed when she handed them to him. He was surprised to find they were cold.

“Is that a mini-fridge?” Mitchell asked incredulously.

She stood and faced him holding a bowl of fruit and kicked the panel closed with her foot.

“A…” she paused trying to recreate the non-native word he used. “Mmiinee puledgee?”

“A device for keeping things cold. A refrigerator.”

She crinkled her nose at the strange word but nodded.

“We call it a chill box. They are expensive to maintain so are not used much but Lethelin chose the rooms well.”

Allora gestured to the table and chairs in the center of the room.

“Come, let us talk.”

They made themselves comfortable and Allora explained that the jugs contained spring water, which Mitchell drank greedily. She told him that wine and other foods could be ordered if he wished, but they should not go overboard because of their limited funds.

“What’s the fruit?” he asked. It looked to him a little bit like a mango. The size was a bit smaller and the skin all yellow instead of yellow-green like mangoes from Earth.

“Do you remember your first day in the cage when you spoke with Ivaran?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mitchell winced at the memory. “I don’t think I will ever forget that.”

“Do you remember what he said about dragging you behind the wagon until the sand peeled the skin from you like a lana fruit?”

“Yeah.”

Instead of answering, Allora picked up one of the palm-sized fruits and, taking it in one hand, grabbed the stem and peeled it back. The skin came away smoothly in a wedge-shaped section and revealed a bright-red fleshy inside. The similarity to muscle tissue was undeniable and Mitchell suddenly got the reference.

“While they may look unappetizing, I promise they are delicious. Try one.”

Mitchell watched as she peeled a little more of the skin away before taking a bite out of the fruit. Pinkish-red juice shot out from around her lips and started to dribble down her chin, causing her utter a small squeal as she reached for one of the napkins that were arranged neatly in the center of the table.

Mitchell laughed and resisted the urge to lean forward and lick it off her tanned skin as he reached for another fruit. Following her example, he pinched the stem and gave it a tug and it broke away easily enough. He brought the exposed flesh to his nose and sniffed. The scent reminded him a little of fresh grapes and there was a definite sweetness to it. Almost like you could tell how good a strawberry was going to be just by the smell.

Allora swallowed her second bite while dabbing at the juice before it ran from her chin to her neck and watched him curiously as he brought the strange fruit to his lips and he took a bite. The juice exploded and coated his tongue. It was cold and sweet and unlike anything he had tasted before. It was as juicy as the ripest summer watermelon but the flesh was firm like an orange. Each time he chewed another burst of liquid exploded and he had to start swallowing lest his mouth begin to overflow.

“Stollar’s perky nipples!” Mitchell exclaimed, as he swallowed that first mouthful and tried out the native expression. “That is really good!”

Allora’s eyes went wide and she burst out laughing. She kept laughing so long that Mitchell started laughing too even though he didn’t get the joke. Her pure delight was infectious.

“What?!?” he demanded throwing his wet napkin at her as her laughter began to subside and become deep heaving breaths between the occasional chuckle.

Her head was thrown back over the chair and one hand was pressed against her stomach. When she looked back at him, she had tears of laughter streaking her face.

“You have never–,” her sentence cut off as she had another small giggling fit. “You have never cursed before in our language. And with your pronunciation, it is like–”

Allora clamped her mouth shut as she tried to stifle another round of laughing.

“It is like…” She heaved in a breath trying to regain her composure. “It is like a toddler.”

“Way to make a guy feel good, you brat!” Mitchell said, trying to sound reproachful but his smile gave him away. It was so good to see her in a happy mood he didn’t have the heart to be upset.

“No no no, please do not misunderstand, Mitchell,” Allora said, her breath finally coming under control. “The speed that you have learned Common is truly remarkable. Almost unnatural. But your pronunciation is still odd. You know the words but your mouth is not fully accustomed to forming the sounds. So sometimes when you speak you sound like a small child just learning. And when you said that it was just a little too much.”

“It’s alright,” he told her. “I was teasing. I’m just happy to see you smile.”

Mitchell watched her for a reaction to the subtle compliment and he was pleased to see something approaching a slight blush before she focused back on her half-eaten lana fruit. They ate the next few bites in silence before she spoke again.

“I was not always so, you know. So… serious. But since Milandris came there has been no time for…” she trailed off then looked up at him. “For laughing, I suppose. But when I was younger, I was quite the little hellion.”

Some memory surfaced and she got a distant look on her face.

“My mother was constantly after me for skipping my lessons to go off sword fighting with the older initiates. I was always sneaking out of my room at night to explore the palace grounds or make my way into places I was not supposed to go.”

Mitchell remained silent, not wanting to break the spell.

“In my eleventh high sun, I even managed to sneak into a council meeting with the last monarch, Baylor, the Elder Lady of Iletish, the Islivarian High Priest, and all of Baylor’s barons and baronesses. It was a trade talk, but it was supposed to be private.”

Mitchell had no idea the significance of that but she seemed to think it important so he made the appropriate sounds of being impressed.

“They caught me, of course, and my father was livid. The Elder Lady of Iletish came to my rescue, however.”

She smiled suddenly and glanced at him.

“That is where I got this,” she said and held up her wrist upon which dangled a delicate silver-gold bracelet.

It was made of several small woven strands of metal and those in turn were woven into larger strands, the end result being a simple braid made of smaller braids, which were made of still smaller ones.

“It’s beautiful,” Mitchell said, honestly.

“It is electrum,” Allora said as if he should know the importance. “She took it from her own wrist and placed it on mine. She told my father that anyone who could sneak past the guards should be rewarded, not punished. That he should punish the security instead.”

“Did he punish you?”

Allora chuckled slightly. “A week washing pots in the barracks kitchens. But it was worth it. The guards were given six months of northern border duty. I did feel bad about that. A little.”

She had a sly smile on her face with just a hint of guilt.

“A few years later,” Allora continued, “When the Elder Lady returned on a diplomatic mission, I was old enough to be put on a guard rotation. It was not dangerous, just standing guard in the hallway of her suites in the palace, but still an honor. The Elder Lady remembered me and we would often sit and have tea in the evenings. She was kind. Sharp as a black-steel blade, and very wise. I think she had a mind to bond me off to one of her grandsons but she passed a short time after.”

A cloud came over her features then.

“After Milandris, those sorts of simple pleasures seemed frivolous. I had to focus all of my energy on surviving and then finding the next monarch. Finding you.”

She gave him a sad smile and it took all Mitchell’s self-control not to pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. Would she have accepted his embrace? Would she have hugged him back?

Allora shifted her attention then to the shaving implements he had set down on the table and just like that, the moment passed.

“Are you going to shave your beard?”

“Ah, yes,” Mitchell confessed, a little startled by the sudden shift in topics. “I’m not sure if I know how. Most people don’t use that style of blade where I’m from.”

Mitchell picked up the straight razor and held it experimentally in his hand.

“I’m worried I’ll cut my throat and all your hard work will be wasted.”

“I can help you if you like. I used to shave my father.”

“That would be great,” Mitchell told her.

Allora led him over to a small alcove off to the side of the bathing pool and Mitchell found it contained a washbasin and faucet, as well as towels, combs, brushes, and a few things he didn’t recognize that didn’t look like they were meant for people with fleshy skin.

She directed him to a chair and he found it leaned back not unlike a barber chair back home that he had seen in old movies when guys went for a shave at the local barber shop. He had heard there were places that still did that but he had never visited one.

Allora had him sit back as she ran hot water into the basin. She laid a towel around his neck and proceeded to use the scissors to shave off his scraggly facial growth. Things became quiet and Mitchell watched her. He studied every line of her face, tried to memorize the darker flecks of violet in her irises, and catalog every swirl and line in her long, delicate ears. She caught him staring and he saw her mouth begin to curl ever so slightly at the edges but she would catch herself and force the smile away. It almost seemed like she was afraid to let herself enjoy the moment. It didn’t make sense to him, but she was a mysterious and complicated woman.

With his beard as close to the skin as she could get it with the scissors, she soaked a towel in the steaming water and wrapped it around his face. It burned for a moment but then he got used to it and couldn’t stifle a groan at the sensation of the heat leaching all the tension out of his face. While he luxuriated in the steam, she prepared the shaving cream and then began the slow, steady work of shaving him.

To her credit, her hands never wavered or shook. Her strokes were confident and efficient and she didn’t nick him even once. For his part, once he got over the nervousness of having a razor at his throat, he found the experience rather nice. She didn’t speak and he didn’t want his neck moving around, so neither did he. The silence was pleasant rather than uncomfortable. They had been through a lot together and, even though they hadn’t talked much beyond their mission, he felt closer to her than maybe anyone in his life. She would die for him, Mitchell knew. In that moment, he also knew that he would do the same for her. Even if she never said she loved him, never had any sort of feelings about him at all beyond the mission, he would die for her.

As she toweled off a little of the remaining shaving cream near his ear, Mitchell reached up and gently grabbed her wrist. He didn’t pull at it and she didn’t pull away. He held it firmly but not tightly and their eyes found one another. He looked up at her for a long time and her gaze never wavered as she looked down at him. He tried to push his thoughts into her head, to communicate all the things he felt for her and to will her to understand but if magic existed for that, he didn’t yet know how to do it. There was no shy smile this time, no little quip or joke, only a long gaze into each other’s souls. With a final squeeze, he released her wrist and she nodded as if there was a new understanding between them. Maybe there was.

“If you would like to join me in my room in an hour,” Allora said as she prepared to leave, “I believe a tailor will come to measure us for some proper attire to complete our journey to the mountains.”

“Sure,” Mitchell replied.

He rubbed his hand over his face and it was as smooth as a baby’s ass. “And Allora?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for the shave.”

She gave him a tight but genuine smile and bowed her head slightly.

“It was my pleasure. I have not had a chance to do that in many years. It brought back fond memories of my father.”

“I wish I could have met him,” Mitchell told her honestly. “I am sure he was a fine man. Or, uh, elf. I guess.”

Allora chuckled.

“Yes, he was. I think he would have liked you.”

The elvish warrior turned to the main suite door this time rather than the one that led to Lethelin’s room but she suddenly stopped and turned around.

“Mitchell,” she said with a hint of hesitancy in her voice. “If you would like, you may call me Lora.”

Mitchell was somewhat taken aback. She was always so formal around him that he almost couldn’t imagine her having a kind of nickname. But when he thought about it, he had heard Revos call her that from time to time.

“If you would like, sure, I can do that. Lora.”

Mitchell tried out the name and decided he liked it.

“Yes,” she said with a smile in her voice. “I think that would be nice. It is what my friends used to call me. I will see you in an hour.”

She thumbed the gemstone next to the door and took her leave.

“Lora,” Mitchell said, almost as if he had to practice it to get it right. Then he started grinning.

***

Lethelin sat and poked at the remaining food on her dinner plate and sulked. The ugliest whore?!? How dare that beautiful long-legged stiff-backed fish-gut-loving spawn of a river slug tell her that she wasn’t good enough to bed Mitchell! Lethelin had killed men for worse insults than that! Well, no, that wasn’t true. But she could have! Besides, Mitchell certainly hadn’t seemed to mind.

Just what was wrong with her wanting to get paid, anyway? She was providing a service, after all. She would steal what they told her to steal, and stab who they told her to stab. Wasn’t that worth some coin? Shouldn’t she be compensated for her hard work? If they were caught, she would be just as dead as them. He was going to be the monarch, after all. He could afford it! She ought to march over to–

A chime sounded throughout the room which shocked Lethelin out of her plans for glorious retribution. She looked at the door to Allora’s room first, ashamed at the spike of anxiety that shot through her insides. But no, it wasn’t that one. Looking with a nearly equal amount of anxiety toward Mitchell’s door, she saw that it wasn’t his either.

Through the process of elimination, she isolated the sound to the main suite door and got up in a huff to go answer it. Upon opening it, she was a little taken aback to see Revos’s towering coppery-red form standing before her.

“Good evening, my little assassin,” he said with his deep baritone voice.

“Yeah?”

She was too annoyed to notice the honey coating his words.

“Now that our clothing has been sorted out, it seems we have the rest of the evening to ourselves. I thought you might like to join me in some refreshments.”

He held up a bottle of wine and, when she saw the variety, it was enough to snap her out of her sulking.

“Where did you get a bottle of Iletishian Sapphire Blue?” she asked, unable to keep the note of awe out of her voice. “That is only for the royal family!”

The large cambion shrugged as if it was inconsequential.

“Things like this have a way of falling into my hands. But if you would like to invite me in, I’d be happy to share it with you.”

Lethelin reevaluated the situation and fully took in his appearance. His normal robes were gone, replaced by a loin cloth that looked unusually tight around the bulge between his legs, and he was wearing a black leather vest that was open, revealing the chiseled muscles of his chest and abdomen. His skin glistened and she realized he had oiled it. His horns were equally polished.

“Revos…” Lethelin began slowly. “Is this your attempt to seduce me?”

He gave her a devilish little smile.

“I do appreciate your directness,” he said. “Yes, it is, my flame-haired temptress. Have you ever been with one of my kind? I promise you, it is an unforgettable experience.”

He arched one of his eyebrows at her as his pointed tongue glided over black lips. He gave what she was sure was supposed to be a sexy look.

“Ugh!” she groaned. After everything else that had happened to her today, this was the last thing she needed. “Look, no offense or anything, but I don’t bed anything with horns. Sleep well.”

Revos blinked in surprise and began to speak.

“But–”

She slammed the door in his face.