Rise (War Witch Book 1) (19 page)

"Huh," she commented a moment later, staring at their cold weather clothing in the wardrobe. "I guess it will all fit. How about that?"

Closing the doors, she turned back to find Ramora giving her another grin that said she knew something funny Chara didn't. It was the young woman’s least favorite of her smiles.

"What?"

Ramora pointed.

Chara looked and saw the boot lying off to the side.

"Seriously?" she groaned as she retrieved it. "Could you not just kick them off and leave them where they land? I'm getting tired of picking up after you."

The Blessed's fingers danced in the air as her grin widened.

"Call me your maid again, and you'll be washing out your own damn underwear," the other woman warned as she opened the wardrobe, only to find it empty. "What the hells?"

No, not empty, she saw. There were two robes of silk hanging to one side. They hadn't been there earlier, she was sure. For a bit, she simply stood, staring in wonder, before dropping the boot in and retrieving the robes.

"Okay, this is weird," she commented as she turned, holding the silk garments up. "Care to explain?"

Ramora made the sign for magic and shrugged, looking over the robes with interest.

Chara scowled. One thing she’d learned in their time together was that Ramora had an offhand way of explaining things, as if they were common knowledge. More than once, she'd had to remind the warrior that not all of them got to grow up in the High World.

Too tired to be bothered with pressing the warrior for a more detailing explanation, she simply held the robes out, letting her friend see them better. She wasn't in the mood for yet another of the mute's attempts at explaining the flux and flow of mystical energies. Much less a painfully confusing attempt at explaining the nature of magic. Showing her the robes was just plain easier.

One was woven in soft blues and greens to depict the sky and sea, with a band of pale yellow around the middle that resembled a beach. It was also extremely short, by Chara's estimation. The second was floor-length, deep brilliant green, patterned to resemble large tropical leaves, and dotted with bright spots of color depicting various types of birds Chara had never seen before.

Surprising no one, Ramora grabbed the short one and started peeling off the last of her clothes. Chara watched her for a moment, felt herself getting warm, and decided to turn around. All the cold had gone to her groin, she was sure.

"When something needs warmed," she muttered under her breath. "It just needs to be damn well warmed."

Ditching the thin clothes she wore, she shrugged into the robe, instantly feeling warmer. At first thinking it was because her underclothes had been damp, she quickly noticed that even her feet were warmer as well. Staring at the robe, she picked up the faint sent of jasmine coming off it and realized that even these had magic woven into them.

"Weird," she commented as she gathered the last of their clothing and just tossed it into the wardrobe, closing the door. After waiting a moment, she opened it again to find it empty. "Very weird."

Still, she thought as she snuggled into the silk robe, savoring the way it kissed her skin, pretty damn nice, weird or not. Looking to Ramora, she found her reaching out a hand for her and, with a smile, accepted it, allowing the Blessed to guide her to one of the couches, where they collapsed contentedly.

Stretching out her legs, Ramora sank into the cushions, laying her head back as she draped her arms along the top of the couch, letting the fire and magical energies bound up in the silk robe push the last of the cold from her body. By her side, Chara settled in, staring first into the fire, then at the warrior’s long, shapely legs.

Ah, not again, she chided herself, trying to slide away, only to find Ramora's hand on her arm, pulling her snug. Far too weary to think about it, she rested her head on the warrior's shoulder as the other woman let her arm fall around her, hand resting between her breasts.

Chara managed to suppress the squeak that tried to escape her, but only barely. When Ramora leaned her head atop the younger woman’s, she sighed, admitting to herself that she sounded happy.

Maybe
, she thought,
this is okay. Maybe we can be like this and it will be all right. Maybe, it was even a little better this way.

Ramora kissed the top of her head.

Nope
, she realized as her body flushed with warmth,
this is not okay. Not even a little. Nowhere near enough.

But, with how unconscious Ramora seemed to be of herself, she felt asking for more might impose. Torn, she laced her fingers together, clenching them tightly.

Ramora's hand drifted up to trail back down again along her cheek and throat, coming to rest once more between her breasts.

Aw, come on!
Chara shouted at her in her mind.

Forcing her fingers to unlatch from one another, she steadied herself, spreading them along her thighs as she really paid attention to Ramora's body language. Calm, relaxed, and completely at ease, Chara tried to force herself to be the same way.

Let's think about this
, she told herself.
Ramora lived in the High World for ten years. She's not going to do things the way a normal person might, especially those who have lived their entire life in a small town buried away in a tiny nation.

Considering that for a minute, she wondered how someone like her might flirt. Surely it would be done in a vastly different manner. If she even knew how to do it at all. Did she? Chara wasn't sure.

Ramora rubbed her cheek against her hair, sending a thrill down the younger woman’s spine. Feeling like she was going to melt, she trained her mind on taking in all the subtle clues she might be missing that would give her some kind of insight.

How did the boys back in Adel express their interest?

Hey, baby.

Okay, not the best comparison
, she admitted. Somebody accustomed to the company of Ascended and Gods wouldn't do that. They weren't from a place that was the sticks to the sticks. Like she was.

Ramora's fingers tenderly grazed the inside of her breast, shattering her thought process. She kind of wished the warrior would stop that so she could concentrate.

She mentally kicked herself for the idiocy of that idea.

Settling in against the Blessed, Chara listened to the steady sound of her breathing, felt the fullness of her breast against her arm, and wanted more than anything in that moment to run her fingers along the woman’s bare thigh. More than her next breath, she wanted it.

I'm a hick
, she sighed to herself. From the part of the backwoods the people who are backwoods call backwards. If it were anyone else, she'd take all of it as a sign of interest. She'd know, with certainty, that it was more than a passing interest. It was an invitation.

So, why was she thinking about this so much? Why was she sitting here, debating the whole thing? Why wasn't she responding in kind? Why couldn't she make her brain stop spinning?

Fingertips floated up her throat, then down again, slipping past the silk to her bare skin.

Yeah, that was an invite, she was sure of it. It had to be. You didn't just casually touch a friend that way. That's what you did when you were coming on to them. Some things were universal.

Right?

Why are you still thinking about this!
she screamed at herself.
Just go for it!

Hand trembling, she slid it over and caressed Ramora's thigh, hoping against hope it wasn't going too far, that she wasn't making a mistake.

Her hand in is in your robe, dumbass!
she chided herself.
How is touching her thigh too far? What’s wrong with you? Why are you still going on like this? Shut up and roll with it!

Chara felt dizzy from the mental exertion.

Ramora thought Chara felt good, and her hair smelled nice. Other than that, she wasn't thinking much.

Somewhere, Altimar was laughing herself into hysterics.

When Ramora's touch didn't pull back at hers, Chara ran her fingers over the warrior’s thigh, savoring the feel of hard muscle under the supple skin. The tremble in her hand eased slowly as she relaxed, allowing herself to enjoy the moment, relishing the touch and feel of the woman she had come to fall in love with so much it hurt her at times.

Turning her head, she looked up at the Blessed, knowing that if she could just see her smile, it would be enough to make her world complete. The twinkle she got in her eyes when she was being mischievous was the turn of Chara's world. So long as Ramora was happy, the young woman knew, she would want for nothing else in her life.

Ramora smiled at her, cornflower eyes glittering as her fingers dipped, following the curve of Chara's breast. Her breath hanging in her throat, Chara turned into her, hand sliding up beneath the hem of the robe the warrior wore, tracing her hip.

She wanted to gasp, but couldn't get even that much out as the Blessed's hand cupped her breast, touch so light it was almost ethereal. Falling into her eyes, Chara leaned up, wanting the taste of her lips like the sky wants clouds, her fingers slipping, almost unbidden, across her hip, then down, grazing the inside of her thigh.

Her mind had gone quiet, all the spinning thoughts gone in a moment as the warrior’s lips grazed across her eyes, phantom touches that set her body on fire. The waft of her breath, caressing her cheek, the light touch of her lips teasing against her skin. She was drowning in the warrior’s hazy blue eyes, and didn't want to be saved.

The tickle of her thumb rising, circling her nipple, coaxed a soft moan from her throat. The feel of muscle under her hand as she slid higher, brushing against the crease of her leg, knowing the only Paradise she desired was a hair’s breadth away, undid her completely.

Ramora's lips flitted over her own, making her tremble in the other woman’s arms as the sensations washed away her ability to know any world but what lay in her arms.

"Pardon me," came Esteban's thick baritone.

Chara froze, cursing the cruel whims of fate as Ramora lifted her head, offering the Werecat a shy smile. Her hand, however, continued to dance under the robe, making the young woman dizzy.

"I would... um... show you to your room," the Jaguar said, looking at the ceiling. "But Master Imicot has requested to speak with you, Blessed of Ramor. He has been expecting you."

Ramora hesitated a moment, wanting nothing more than to return to Chara's embrace. She’d wanted this for a while, and felt the other woman wasn't interested till now. Whatever the old sorcerer wanted, she was tempted to say it could wait until morning.

"The master knows what you would ask of him," Esteban added when neither woman moved. "And has a request of you in return."

Ramora was standing in a flash, eyes turning serious.

On the couch, Chara suppressed a whimper; cold water thrown on her moment with the sudden absence of her would-be lover. Hurt, she turned up to the Blessed, only to see she wasn't looking back as Esteban swept a hand out to indicate the stairs.

They were passing out of sight by the time Chara could still the tremble in her legs enough to follow, desire fading into resentment, and anger.

FOLLOWING THE TOWERING WERECAT
up the wide stone steps, Ramora pondered how the old sorcerer could’ve possibly known she was coming, as her Avatar sang of regret at having what it considered a long overdue rendezvous with Chara's nether regions interrupted. Shushing it gently, she reminded the Rabbit they had more pressing matters, but it tweeted back that leaving the young woman so suddenly was cruel.

Chara would understand
, she pointed out, but the spirit gave her a long whistle of doubt. Glancing over her shoulder, Ramora found her friend trailing behind, her face dark as she stared down at the passing steps. Shamed, Ramora admitted the Avatar was right, and promised to make it up to the young woman later.

Somewhat mollified, the small Rabbit left her alone, but continued to hum chastisement in the back of her mind. Glancing back again, Ramora sighed silently, wondering just what in the Hells had gotten into her to behave so rudely. As much as Ramor was her father, Altimar was her mother, and she had taught her better than that.

Accepting that she owed Chara a profound apology, the warrior looked back up at the Werejaguar as they rose ever higher into the tower, wondering how long he had watched them as they had lost themselves in each other. Despite his cordial behavior and manners, she still didn’t trust him.

Winding their way up, Ramora studied the layout of the keep itself, in case she had to fight to get Chara out of it. After they left the main floor, they had ascended two full stories before reaching a landing that circled half the structure, passing a wide set of double doors that had given a glimpse of a three-story library.

Two floors up, at the next landing, a laboratory of some sort, runic designs for ritual magic scattered amongst chalkboards half filled with arcane calculations. Though they hadn’t seen use in some time, she could still feel the power emanating from them, making her wonder what the old sorcerer had been studying.

Another lab met her eyes at the floor above, this one for mixing potions, while the next floor showed a vast armory. She only got a glimpse through the half open door of scattered armor and weapons, while complex machines she couldn't even describe hulked in the background, draped with oilcloths.

From there, they climbed two floors before passing another entry, through which she saw something that made her pause, reaching out to swing the partially open door wide, taking in the sight of a three-story ringed chamber lined with drawings of gateways, each surrounded by complex runic wording.

Esteban paused, watching her with unreadable eyes as she stepped into the chamber for a moment. Her Avatar chirped in awe. A Nexus Gate. She’d heard of them from the Ascended as she’d studied magic under them, but never believed she would see one. Dumbstruck, she could only sweep her eyes slowly over the massive number of portals, sitting quiet and cold.