he said, “but even among my folk, there are those who simply have the talent. I was one, but Ailith…she’ll be much more.”
His eyes went distant.
“For her blood,” he said, in stunned astonishment, “she could be a Master Swordsman.”
So few men truly cared to learn the sword, counting on their numbers more than skill. It was skill, though, that had saved Dorovan’s race.
Just at the thought, at the responsibility of it, his breath caught.
“Like Elon of Aerilann?” Delae asked, startled.
Slowly, he nodded. “Like him. Like his true-friend, Colath.”
Bright shadow to Elon of Aerilann’s dark, with Colath at his side the two elves were legendary for their sword work, Delae knew. Dorovan had mentioned Elon before. Now as advisor to the High King, the new Council and teamed with the human wizard Jareth, they were a force to be reckoned with.
“That good?” Delae said, a little awed.
He nodded.
Slowly he rolled her over onto her back. Even now with silver threaded thickly through the rich fire of her hair, she was lovely to his eyes, he thought as he pierced her. Her eyes and her smile widened as she sighed with pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him as he pressed deep into her.
“I love the feel of you, Delae,” he breathed, stroking into her, shifting his hips to feel every inch.
“Do you?” she whispered, her body shifting to take him.
She wasn’t questioning, wasn’t searching for validation - she simply echoed the emotion in him. She smiled as she always did when he filled her, her body arching as pleasure rushed through her as his own ecstasy emptied into her.
“I love this,” she sighed, trembling.
As did he. She was a delight and a joy to him.
Steel clashed and rang through the forest, the sound oddly musical, especially when done this way, moving from the forms to sparring. It was pure pleasure for Dorovan to do this with Ailith, especially to watch the laughter in her eyes, to see the delight she took in the movement of sword against sword. She had grown, and not just in age, but in skills. It was such a pleasure to watch.
“Watch,” Dorovan cautioned in Elvish and she rolled her eyes, not in consternation, but at herself.
“Forgot,” she said, in the same tongue. “I don’t get to spar with anyone the likes of you much, Dorovan.”
“Hmmm,” he said, amused. “It’s a problem. Don’t get careless Ailith. Ah and your grandmother told me to tell you that you’d best come up to visit her, too.”
There was a hesitation in Ailith’s next stroke that was uncommon in her.
“Speak,” he said, fairly certain he knew what it was that troubled her, “there is nothing you cannot ask me, Ailith.”
“You love Delae,” she said.
He nodded. “More than my life.”
It was no more than the truth, if it came to that.
A breath went out of her. “But it’s not a soul-bond.”
“No,” he said, stepping back and away.
It was too serious a discussion for sparring.
“If I could have that with Delae, I would,” he said with a sigh, “but I can’t.”
He did wish it.
With a nod, Ailith put up her sword, too, to come sit beside him on the rock.
“Because she’s not Elf?”
Dorovan took a breath and shook his head. “No. I can’t explain it. I know what I have with Delae is a true bond, just not a soul-bond although I love her deeply. So it’s not that. With a soul-bond, it’s…different… In what way I don’t know, as I haven’t found mine, it just isn’t. But know this, I love Delae deeply and her company stands in place of that bond.”
“I know,” Ailith said, clearly more at ease.
“And I love you too, little one,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead in a rare show of affection.
She was growing so fast, as all children did, Elf or man. In a way, it pained him. He wished to keep her young, keep her safe. It would be hard to watch her grow old and die as he watched Delae age.
“Thanks, Dorovan,” she said, “I love you, too.”
“I know,” he said, mimicking her tone.
She smiled.
“Forms?” he said and she jumped down from the stone.
They took up position side by side, moving nearly as one, smoothly, from guard to attack, from parry to thrust, in the rhythm of the forms.
Chapter Twelve
Riding to Delae’s homestead, Dorovan had felt an odd…presentiment…a shadow of sorts. Although some Elves had stronger magic, Dorovan knew he had only such as all Elves were born with, the strength and