Chapter Ten – The Widow’s Lust

  It was a quick walk to Softie’s Excellent Inventory Unlimited store, but Gray found himself taking a shortcut. While most of the vendors were empty, huddled under their canopies, a few had closed completely. Others had a lively crowd.

  He made his way to the pit, where Pit City got its name. Normally, they had little boats floating out there with candles on them, which was kind of pretty, but that night, it was a dark hole filled with water. It looked like what he imagined the Weeping Well looked like.

  At one time, Wrath Tower had stood there, but now, that was gone. Destroyed. Which allowed demons to creep out of the well. If this Malchutt was around, he must’ve gotten free a long time ago. Maybe he was causing all the mischief at First Field.

  Gray left the pit and was at Softie’s store before he knew it.

  He pushed his way through the door to mee the cousins Flip, Flip, Flop, and Earl. They greeted him with kind words and smiles. He might be both loathed and feared at First Field, but Softie’s shop was a different story.

  Softie was at the counter, combing his long beard with his fingers. “There he is. Culling Day’s big victor. But you’re not here to talk to me or those morons, you want to talk to my sister.”

  Earl blinked. “Who are the morons?”

  Cousin Flip laughed. “If you have to ask, you is one.”

  “Hey!” Earl protested.

  Gray found himself smiling at their banter. “Is she in?”

  Softie grunted. “Yes. And she’s been expecting you.”

  He wasn’t surprised. “Divination magic certainly does make one question how much privacy they have. I hope she uses that judiciously.”

  Softie shrugged. “You’d have to ask her. Go on back.”

  Gray left the front room and pushed his way through the curtains behind the counter. He was back in the Widow’s sanctuary, a warm place filled with items, only this time, there was a small fire burning in a fireplace in the back wall. Tapestries hung from the walls, and mana candles glowed with a soft light. It smelled of incense and perfume—probably from the rich customers that the Widow dealt with.

  The widow’s main workspace was a tall chair and table in the corner, and that was where she was, with an eyepiece screwed into her brow, looking over a ring.

  “Hello, Grayson Fade. Have a seat by the fire. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  He took the seat and reached out to feel the warmth of the lust rocks burning there.

  Then he felt the flash of mana, and he glanced up to see the ring glowing a purple color. It grew uncomfortably bright before fading. The room was filled with a sweet smell of something cooking, and then, the Widow set her eyepiece on the table. She had such big, warm brown eyes, which made the crow’s feet not a big deal. Her long hair was jet black except for a tuft of white above her brow. She was wearing a skirt and short blouse which showed the five intricate tattoos trailing up her left arm, marking he as an archmagus.

  She climbed down off her seat and went to him. She had her own little chair, but she didn’t sit down.

  She studied him carefully. “Well, Mr. Fade, I heard about your exploits during Culling Day. Everyone is very impressed.”

  He laughed. “You don’t sound like you are.”

  “I hate the Testing. I hate what they do at First Fields. I hate all of that violence and spectacle. And it’s all in service to the Watchfire families…the money, the attention, all of it. They’re all rich fuckers who only care about themselves.”

  Gray wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the Widow curse before.

  She softened. “That is not where I wanted to start. Can I touch you?”

  He nodded.

  She went behind him and gently touched his head and behind his ears before caressing his hair. “You nearly killed yourself. I can’t imagine Captain Sevanya would’ve been pleased. Then again, she might’ve gotten used to having her squads die on her.”

  “So, I’ve heard. She lost the last two.”

  “Not at First Fields, but yes. They were massacred in Old Town, but that happens to kill squads all the time. It’s a dangerous place.”

  “Yes, but it’s the best home I’ve ever had.”

  “That speaks to your sad past. But now it’s today, and now, I see, your core has changed. It was always so very vast, but now, there are rivers of mana pouring into you from all sides, like rivers flowing into an ocean. You emptied your core, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  She sighed. “Dangerous. Unwise. My brother would call you a moron.”

  “He wouldn’t be the only one.” Gray leaned back against her touch.

  She then touched the one mana mark on the back of his neck.

  It was an electric touch, and he found himself getting excited. The Widow as older, but still beautiful, and she was short, wide, but so curvy. Her touch was warm, soft, and she smelled so good.

  She laughed a little. “Oh, my. Did you feel it? I certainly did.”

  Once again, he had to think of Rynn.

  It was like she guessed his thoughts. “Your poor pretty little elf girl. She didn’t know what she was doing, getting bonded so early in her long life. But bonding is for the young. Bond in haste and regret in leisure. The young don’t understand time, not really, but maybe that is as it should be.”

  Gray turned to her, and he took her hand. Sitting, he was about her same height. He felt the desire for her, like he’d felt for Sindara, and with that desire came mana, so much mana, he found himself glowing. With that glow, he could feel the core of the little woman in front of him. Her core was a swirl of blue and red, becoming purple, changing back to blue, before fading into red. With Sindara and Ames, he’d seen their mana reaching for him, but that wasn’t happening with the Widow.

  And yet, something was happening to her. Her purple glow matched his golden one, and with each breath, it became more intense. He looked down and saw that the tattoos on her arm were also illuminated, a bright purple color. He felt the pull to lick each and every one of them.

  And that wasn’t all. He felt the pull to hold her, to kiss her, and he knew she felt it too. Their mutual desire electrified the air.

  Emilia Stone—her real name—had tears in her eyes. “No, Grayson Fade. We can’t. I can’t bond again. And what would your pretty elf girl say?”

  Gray didn’t know. Bonding had been heavenly with her, but now that he definitely had a lust resonance, he could see how complicated everything had become. But he didn’t just have the one, he had multiple.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  He felt sudden shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  The Widow stepped away, fanning her face. She was a little sweaty and flushed. “Goodness. I didn’t expect that. It was my fault. I had to see about your, uh, condition. I didn’t think I could feel like that again. I need a moment.”

  She walked back to her table and stood there, unmoving.

  His eyes traveled from her dark hair, down her strong back, to her wide hips, accentuated by the skirt. She was barefoot, which somehow made him want her all the more. He had to admire her calves.

  And the mana kept pouring in.

  The Widow took a cup from her desk and drank it down. She turned. “We should have tea. Please. One moment. I’ve not…I need more moments to collect myself.”

  She left the room.

  Was it her fault? She had touched his one mana mark, and that had started it, but he’d always been attracted to her. She was so pretty and wise and powerful. And completely unavailable. She’d lost her bonded, young, and it had nearly destroyed her.

  And now, she was a rebel, taking poached mana, which was a death sentence if the Watchfire families found out.

  Gray cleared his throat. Tea would be good.

  The Widows returned with a tray. “Well, now, Mr. Grayson Fade. Let’s have tea and chat. After all that lust in the air. Goodness, I thought those days were gone, but alas, I still have a bit of desire left in me after all. I should cherish it, but I’m worried about what you think of me.”

  “You’re alive, a woman, and you have desires.” Grayson shrugged. “Up in Cradleport, sex isn’t that big of a deal. Only, everyone is obsessed with it, so it is a big deal after all. But I’m coming to you for a very specific reason. I can get mana in, but I can’t channel it anywhere, except into the cores of other manamancers. That’s helpful, but I need to do more.”

  The Widow set the tray on her table.

  “Captain Sevanya hasn’t taught you to push your power through your meridians?” the little woman asked.

  “Not yet.”

  The dwarven woman let out a single laugh. “Well, that is surprising. I’m assuming she’s been trying. That, however, is a rather big assumption.”

  “She’s tried, and I’ve been eating full-sized ironbites three times a day, but nothing.”

  “That will only get mana into you. You don’t have an issue with that now. You know, from the early scrolls on mana theory, the original manamancers had this same problem. They could even manifest spells but couldn’t channel their mana into items. In this case, you’re not wanting to put your mana into an item but into your muscles and skin. There’s something I could try, but it would hurt.”

  “I’m not afraid of pain.”

  “That’s apparent. And you don’t have an aversion to needles. That is very fortunate. Let’s see what we can do. But first, I need a bit of something.” She sipped her tea and then brought him a little wooden cup.

  He sipped it and felt the bite of the alcohol in the back of his throat. He also tasted honey.

  “I like your tea, Emilia,” he said.

  “Should you be calling me by my first name after what just happened? I suppose we might as well risk it. Sure, call me Emilia, and I’ll call you Gray, and we can pretend to be just friends.” She went to a wooden cabinet and started pulling out little drawers before slamming them closed. “The tea has a little orcish rotmash in it. And honey. I’m assuming you’ve had rotmash before.”

  “I haven’t,” he said.

  “It’s cheap booze, but I like it.” The Widow came back with a little container of needles. “I need you to strip to your under clothes and lay on the table, face up. Then I’m going to touch you again before stabbing your left ankle with a needle.”

  “Zaccai of the Fire had flames on his ankles and heart. Is that right?”

  She pointed at a tapestry on the wall, where one panel was exposed, showing a woven image of the first avatar. It matched his vision perfectly. “Someone has been reading their history. Have you heard of the trayah jalana?”

  “The brands that Zaccai used to channel his mana through his meridians. I wanted to ask about that.” Gray talked while he kicked off his boots, dropped his socks, and stripped out of his uniform. He was trying not to think too much about what he was doing, he couldn’t forget the pull to kiss the little dwarven woman. And this was after holding Sindara while she wept.

  He got on the table in the center of the room, laying on his back. She supplied the pillow.

  She cleared her throat. “It’s been said that Zaccai saw the horrors of the world, the demons and angels fighting, the gods trying to murder each other, and he wanted to run away. That’s why he branded the inside of his ankles. He wanted to channel that mana into his legs. But he soon realized there was nowhere to run, and so he branded his heart, to give him courage.”

  “How did he get his core in the first place?”

  She touched his legs, the top of his thighs, and he felt himself respond. She saw see his obvious excitement because he could feel her excitement again. She didn’t have a lust resonance, but something was happening to her core, he could feel it. Instinctively, he felt the urge to channel mana to her. He had so much now!

  Again, she had to clear her throat. “Let me get more of my tea.” She left, took a sip, and then took a big breath before letting it out slowly. She back and again touched his leg, moving her hand higher and higher. She was kneading his skin, his muscles, and it felt good. Her hands were soft but strong.

  She abruptly stopped and then went to his feet, touching his toes, and massaging his feet. “Humans were a perfect combination of sin and virtue, the love children of the gods, but I believe in the eight pair, the Divine Instinct, Hope and Despair. I think Hope and Despair gave the children of the gods their core but kept it empty. It was up to the humans to fill it. Zaccai was born into despair, and he had to learn hope, and once he did, once he practiced fighting his despair with hope, his core accepted the mana. That is what I think. Others think that humans were given their cores the first time they had sex, and it was all based on lust. Maybe, but I like the story of hope better. Now, I’m going to stab you. Are you ready?”

  He was in a strange mood—half relaxed, half excited, and he didn’t really want to feel any pain right then, but he had to remember he was there for a reason.

  “For a good stabbing?” Gray laughed at his own joke. “Who doesn’t love a good stabbing.”

  He felt the cool needle touch his big toe, and then, he felt the stab of pain. He gasped.

  “Can you feel that?” she asked.

  “It’s kind of a dumb question.”

  Her laughter sounded nervous. “You’re right. Can you feel the connection between the needle and your core? Try pushing your mana into the needle.”

  He concentrated. The needle was easy to feel since it hurt, and he definitely felt his core because it was overflowing with lust. He felt so swollen. He was worried he might rupture something. “Can I give you some mana? I have so much in me.”

  “It’s very intimate, Gray. Far too intimate. Just try and channel it down to the pain. It should be easier since you have so much.”

  He took in a breath and imagined the golden glow inside of him traveling down his leg to where the needle was piercing him. In and out, in and out, he felt his breath, and he was breathing into the pain down there. It was an old training trick that Master Kreef had taught him.

  Then, he felt it, his mana was traveling down that leg to get to the needle.

  He abruptly sat up, staring at his right leg. Underneath his skin, he could see a golden glow. Yes, there was a connection between his core and the needle.

  He glanced at the Widow. “It’s happening, Emilia.”

  She was sweating, the top of her chest was as red as her cheeks. She looked ten years younger. “That is very good. I can help you, Gray, but we will need the trayah jalana.”

  She slid the needle out of his skin. “Grayson Fade, you never cease to amaze me. I’m assuming you won’t mind owing me another favor. I helped you break through the captain’s wards, and I think I can help you with this. If you are willing.”

  “I am.”

  She was massaging his foot again, and he felt the warmth and again, he felt the pull to pull her close and kiss her.

  Still, she touched him, even though he was fairly certain she’d learned what she needed to.

  And then she told him what she needed to help him.

  It was impossible, dangerous, but worst of all, he knew Captain Sevanya would never go for it. Not a million years.

  He was going to have to betray her confidence. Again.

  The wards were one thing. This was something else entirely.

  * * *

  When he got back to his room that night, he found Rynn in their bed, naked, and though he couldn’t see under the covers, he could tell what she was doing.

  “So you’re not mad?” he asked.

  “Only that you took so long to come back! I’m dying for you. Dying, Mr. No. Dying. I only vaguely know what happened between you and the Widow Stone, but I know something happened. You must’ve have at least kissed her.”

  Gray stripped in seconds. After the night he’d had, he was more than ready to pleasure his bonded. “I didn’t kiss her. I did call her Emilia. That was before I pushed mana into my leg. At least one leg. We were right. The trayah jalana is going to be the key to this.”

  “Let’s talk about meridians in a moment.” The elf girl flung off her covers.

  His eyes went from her beautiful face, down her full chest, her flat, muscled belly, and then to her treasure between her legs. It was clear she was ready for him.

  Their lovemaking was wild and sweat-soaked. He had to keep quieting her down because he didn’t think the rest of the house wanted to hear them. Rynn couldn’t stay silent, though, and he finally had to kiss her to keep her quiet.

  She bit his lip, and he bit hers back, and then she grabbed him, her nails digging into her back.

  She gasped, and then he felt her ecstasy, squeezing him. It wasn’t long before he thrust into her one last time and felt his own bliss.

  He tried to tell her what he’d learned from the Widow Stone, but Rynn wasn’t in the mood.

  “No, Mr. No. What we just did was so lovely. I don’t want to talk about my jealousy tonight. I’ve done enough sharing for one evening. Now? I just want you to hold me until I fall asleep.”

  And that is exactly what he did.

  Gray, though, found he couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t sure why Rynn wasn’t jealous, but she wasn’t. At least she wasn’t that night.

  More, he kept thinking about the Widow Stone’s request. The breakthrough he’d experienced with her enchanted needle gave him hope.

  Hope. The fuel for the soul and maybe why people had cores in the first place.

  Gray eventually left his bed to go downstairs for a drink water.

  There, he found Captain Sevanya in her chair, facing the window. Yellow was there beside her. Outside, demons growled. They weren’t alone.