Lost in the Light Ch. 03

She couldn't look at him anymore, it was evoking unpleasant feelings. She simply closed the flap in his face and collapsed onto her bedroll, and went to sleep...

The sun was starting to set when there was a noise outside her tent and the flap opened. Riyarra stirred only slightly, but under the folds of her cloak she had stealthily put her fingers on her knife.

"My lady?" Gayne's voice whispered. He entered and crouched over her cautiously. When she didn't stir, he reached out to wake her.

Riyarra sprung in that instant, grabbing his hand with one arm and jamming the butt of her knife into the boy's trachea. The blade was aimed towards her wrist, but she struck him with enough force that he wheeled backwards onto his rump and choked for air.

"First lesson," she whispered and placed her hand over his mouth to muffle his coughs. "Never approach a sleeping target. Kill it. Strike it. But never assume it's harmless." She met his confused and bewilder gaze and waited until her words sunk into his brain. When he calmed and nodded his understanding she let go of his mouth, and let him up. "Close the flap." She commanded. Gayne got up, pulled the flap shut and tied off the ends.

Riyarra put the knife away and straightened the mat she had disheveled in her attack. Her mind was racing with what to do with this boy, she didn't know if she could trust him, but she desperately wanted to confide in him. She wanted to reveal herself so badly and she wanted him to side with her.

A soft flute melody came from the corner of her tent when, as instructed, Gayne had brought his reed flute and started to play for her. It was a gentle song, and very calming. Riyarra shed her cloak and boots, then sat quietly and listened in the shadows of her tent. She lifted a knee to her chest and rested her chin on it. It wasn't a song she had heard before, so she closed her eyes and let the melody wash over her and soothe the troubles of the last day.

Despite the tranquil moment something in her just couldn't relax as she used to. Gayne's presence was a welcomed treat, but she found herself yearning to get closer to him. Perhaps it was the familiarity, or the lustful last few weeks, that made her constantly on edge. She caught him stealing glances at her out of the corner of her eye. This was getting dangerous; she couldn't risk him recognizing her.

"I'm going to sleep." She announced quietly. Gayne stopped playing. "I liked that song. It took me away from this hell for a brief moment. If you played that while I tried to sleep, I think I could sleep soundly for once."

"Um, Sir?" Gayne's expression was confused. He understood her request, but she could see the gears turning behind those eyes trying to determine her meaning.

Damn. She gave him reason to wonder. She had hoped he would just do as he was told. But the boy she knew had a mind of his own, and he wasn't too dull. Sending him away like this would make him wonder more of why she had asked him here.

"I lost a... comrade today." She said finally. Gayne's gaze shifted to the floor out of respect.

"I'm sure his death was hard for you." Gayne finally said. Ah, that was it. Eymara was close to Daeli, she wasn't grieving properly.

"I need someone to keep me company tonight." She finally said in the growing darkness. "That man was... monstrous. The way he killed Daeli will probably give me nightmares tonight. I need you to keep me from killing someone in my sleep." She said with an icy tone. She didn't know anything about Eymara, but neither did Gayne apparently other than that Daeli and her were close. If she played it rough and callous, and ordered the boy around, he wouldn't have too much to ponder.

"I think I understand now," Gayne said and started to play another song. Riyarra's heart leapt in place when she heard it. She knew this one; it was one of her favorites. But it also brought tears to her eyes.

Riyarra crawled under the blanket of her bed mat and bunched up her cloak for a pillow. Gayne didn't seem to mind as he played the song that soon grew slow and somber, almost sad-like. But to Riyarra it was sad, because it was one of her favorite memories now faced with the harsh reality of what had become of them both. She felt her eyes starting to water, and she needed to stop it.

She rose from the mat and crawled over to the flutist. Gayne ignored her until she was too close not to notice and when his eyes opened from his playing she had a good hold on his shirt as she dragged him back to the mat on top of her. There she took his face with her hands and kissed him deeply on the lips. She needed the distraction, and he needed to stop playing that damn song.

Her fingers stroked his head and ran through his hair, as she tried to calm the pounding heart in his chest. Gayne was nervous; he apparently hadn't kissed very many girls. Riyarra reached over and pulled the blanket over the two of them, and by then Gayne had relaxed a little. The warmth between them grew under the covers and he became more at ease with her advances. His hands caressed her cheeks timidly, then her arms, then her hair. But they never strayed any farther. This one would need permission first for that. In the back of her mind, she smiled devilishly at her perfect distraction -- Riyarra, the princess, would never do this with a common boy.

She pulled his shirt over his head, and ran her fingers down his back. He was warm, and his back had started to take on some muscle from the hard life out here. Gayne was growing into a fine man. Riyarra felt a sudden flush come to her cheeks as she realized how attracted she really was towards him. Perhaps, if he had stayed at the castle, and she never left to search for her brother... just maybe...

Riyarra pushed him away suddenly, embarrassed and sadden at where her thoughts were going. That future would never happen now.

"I'm sorry!" Gayne blurted out and started to look for his shirt. Riyarra snapped out of her depression streak and realized the uncomfortable and embarrassing position she had just put him into. Gently she put a hand on his as it reached for his shirt. She carried his hand and his gaze to her breast and let him feel her. His fingers trembled as they caressed her soft mound eagerly, knowing now the touch and feel of a woman's secret. She placed his other had at the bottom of her shirt and slid it underneath. There she let go and left him to figure out the rest.

Gayne was a quick learner; he lifted up her shirt and pulled it over her head. As her arms came up and the garment pulled free, her breasts fell into his view. He stared bewildered at her body, from stomach to face his eyes drank her in. She was a woman now and not a warrior. Her muscles were toned, but still subdued by the feminine curves of her hips, stomach, chest and shoulders. Her golden hair fell behind her in curls and her green eyes bewitched him even in the darkness of their tent.

"My lady is beautiful..." Gayne gasped. Riyarra moved closer, coming within mere inches of his chest and leaned her lips into his neck. Softly she kissed the tender skin and trailed her lips down to his broad shoulder.

Gayne shivered as the excitement and nervousness combined into one euphoric feeling that ran down his spine. He mirrored her lead, bringing his lips to her neck and kissing her softly. His hands even ventured back up to her breasts, where he cupped each one and rubbed them softly at first. Riyarra let out a sigh of pleasure as he kissed down her shoulder. Her fingers found his back again and draped up and down his bare skin. He pushed forward, taking her back down to the mat. Then his lips grew bolder and traveled down her neck and chest to her breasts. There he suckled a nipple like a babe, pulling and licking at it as if he expected something to happen. Riyarra was too enflamed with desire to complain. What he lacked in finesse he made up for in intensity.

She moaned. Gayne took it as a sign and moved to the other nipple, ravaging it like he did its mate. Riyarra could take no more. She fought at her belt strap and pushed her trousers off. Gayne followed her lead and did likewise; his hard throbbing member sprang free to spank her on the thigh. Riyarra stifled her giggle, and grabbed both halves of his small butt to pull him into her. She didn't need any preparation, the moment his lips found neck she was ready for him.

With simultaneous gasps, he entered her. His hard member slid effortlessly into her wet pussy. Riyarra moaned into his neck and held him tightly as he started to slowly slide in and out of her awaiting womanhood. Gayne was breathing heavy from the excitement, and he let himself fall into a constant rhythm of fluid motion. Riyarra let her erotic gasps escape with each thrust; she was enjoying this, but wanted him to enjoy it so much more. Suddenly his lips sought out hers hungrily. Want, desire, joy, happiness all fueled the passion in their kiss. For this moment they were not soldiers, not prisoners marked for their sins, not hunted and running, there were no cares of the world that could intrude on that kiss.

Riyarra broke free in a gasp of joy. Her lover immediately went to her exposed neck and lavished his lips over the sensitive curvature of her jaw. She arched her back into his kiss, thrusting her chest up to steal his attention away from her neck. Gayne could take directions, and trailed his lips down to her arched chest where he kissed her erect nipples. His tongue licked at them one after the other, before sucking them into his mouth wantonly. One arm wrapped under her arched back to steady her while the other braced him against the floor as his tempo suddenly turned feverish. She felt his cock twitched suddenly inside her. Gayne pulled away arching his back as a loud moan of pleasure erupted from his lips.

His pulsating member erupted inside her. She felt his warm cum against the walls of her womb, and that sensation pushed her over her peak. Her breath caught in her throat as the spasms of intense passion flooded her body. Together they came until Gayne collapsed on top of her, spent. His chest heaved in gasps of exertion and pleasure. Riyarra pulled his head to her sweaty chest and cradled it under her chin. Gayne's talented hands roamed over the curves of her sweaty chest and stomach, exciting forgotten nerves and sending tingles through her already aroused body. She purred contently against him and he sighed contently in response.

There they lay, happy for this one brief respite from the world. It allowed them to drift off into content sleep until the morning.

The soft glow of predawn slowly took away the darkness of their tent. Riyarra looked at her lover's face. This gentle boy turned warrior named Gayne. She lifted a hand to his cheek and caressed it softly as he slept. They lay facing one another, and she took the moment to remember the beautifully pleasant days of their youth. She remembered the gardens, where he would hold recitals among the flowers. It was a beautiful place to sit and be surrounded by peace and harmonious song. She remembered the games they played as kids, but not like it was with her brothers. They liked to play rough, but she wasn't allowed to play rough with Gayne, he was like a delicate flower back then.

Carefully she lifted the hair from his forehead, and the mark of Yvarna glared at her. It made her stomach wrench up and all the murderous, vile thoughts she fought to repress suddenly came to the surface. Yvarna was a curse. It was placed on those who committed grievous crimes against the Eltharian people. No mere bar squabble, or petty theft of property earned an Yvarna. It required approval from the Crown, and the Crown was usually reluctant to place it due to its severity and unforgiving nature. Murderers, traitors, or similarly corrupted Eltharians received the Yvarna. The mark was a forced conscience; if they strayed from the path of virtue it burned them down to their soul. If they did not recant their action, it killed them. Only an act of great piety or heroism removed the Yvarna and broke the curse. It was very rare; most prisoners lived out the rest of their lives still with the mark. Looking at this mark on poor Gayne's forehead broke her heart. Riyarra closed her eyes and gave the tears leave to run down her cheeks. The mark had taken her gentle, innocent friend and turned him into a harden warrior. He had been taught how to scout, how to fight, and how to kill. She wondered if he had killed yet, and found herself silently praying that his soul hadn't yet been tarnished with that. Even if the man survived the punishment, he would never be able to play such sweet songs as he did before. They had taken his innocence from him, and made him a thing of war.

Riyarra opened her red angry eyes to find him gently looking back at her. Her expression confused and startled him and he looked away.

"I'm sorry, Sir." He breathed and meant to turn away before she held his head and kissed him softly on the lips.

"Gayne" she breathed softly as their lips parted. She settled back in to gaze at his beautiful face. Her fingers caressed his cheeks and jaw softly. His confusion was pushed aside as he smiled appreciatively, but behind his eyes she could see him thinking and trying to rationalize this situation.

There it was. She saw it. That glimmer of recognition in those soft blue eyes. She smiled at him. His gaze started to search her, her ears, her eyes, her nose and cheeks. It was if he had known them but didn't know it until now. She hoped he would know her, she wanted him to so badly, but she knew that would compromise her secret. Riyarra was sure she could trust him, but a vicious voice in the back of her mind was afraid of the opposite outcome. She cringed and forced that thought back into the depths of her being.

"My lady?" he whispered when she turned her gaze away for that moment. His hand touched her cheek and she looked back up to his face with love in her eyes now. No, she would never harm her friend, her lover, her reason now to continue on the path Mule had set her on and to free her people from her brother's wickedness. For Gayne.

She wouldn't respond, but she leaned into his touch and welcomed it. Her eyes closed and she felt the hands of a musician feel the notes of her skin as it caressed her jaw, neck, and shoulder. It lifted and she opened her eyes to look at him again. Contentment, she could stay like this with him forever if the world would let them. His fingers touched her ear, and gently caressed the elongated ridge in a sensual manner. His touch was true to his profession and she made a musical sound as a high pitched gasp escaped her lips despite herself. The forefinger stroked the underside of her ear and she sighed deeply as a warm tingling sensation flooded her nerves. Her lips curved slightly into a coy grin when the feeling subsided.

"So, you can play a woman like an instrument, can you?" she teased him. She remembered she used to tease him a lot when they were growing up. He was more of a younger brother to her than her real family. The boys were off learning how to govern and be diplomatic, when she and Gayne were left to their gardens and their songs. Her comment made him pause, and she regretted it. That glimmer of recognition had grown, and his eyes looked worried as he searched her again. But those eyes suddenly turned cold, and it made Riyarra's heart shudder.

"Eymara, never teased me like that. She thought musicians were a waste." Gayne tried to explain with a cold voice. He was withdrawing from their lover's moment and steeling himself for the confrontation building. "Who are you my lady? You are not Eymara..." Riyarra closed her eyes and felt the pain of carelessness. The dreadful moment she had hoped to avoid was now here.

"My lady may have killed Eymara, and you may kill me." He said sternly. "But I have mastered many animal calls, and my impression of the Harpai's shriek will have the entire camp upon you before my heart stops." Riyarra looked hurt as he finished.

"Gayne," she nearly sobbed as she touched his cheek. He recoiled. "I would never hurt you. I have never hurt you." She needed to gamble now, but couldn't come out to say it. She met his gaze and held his searching light blue eyes with her fiercely calm green ones.

"My lad..." he started before the missing piece finally fell into place. "Y-your g-grace?" he stammered. "Ry?" he almost cried as recognition and grief wrenched his heart and voice at the same time. Riyarra quietly kissed him.

"Yes, love?" she whispered into his ear and held him as his shoulders shuddered with the barely contained sobs. Their reunion had come, and it was more painful for him than she had hoped. Her mind quickly shifted gears from the pleasant joy to the tactical analysis of what could have happened during her absence to make Gayne this way. What orders did he have, would he kill her? Would he turn her in? Why did they give him the Yvarna? How would it react?

"You have to run." He muffled into her shoulder and hair, as his voice regained its composure. "Run far from here, far from us, far from me," She held him tightly at that moment when she understood his meaning. He had indeed been ordered to recapture her, if not kill her outright. By admitting this to her he had broken his duty. Her heart steeled at that moment and all joy left her. The warrioress reemerged, and the princess fell back into the shadows of her soul. "I knew in my heart you hadn't betrayed us to the Zecairin, but that was our charge. They, they needed me to recognize you...recognize your body. To prove that you were dead. I refused, and they cursed me. Now... I have no choice." He whispered painfully, anger flushed to his cheeks, and his jaw locked. "You have to run, now!"

"I will," she whispered. "But not now. Hold me for a little longer, love." She whispered and held his head to her chest. He resisted at first, fighting an internal struggle, before finally wrapping his arms around her body and holding her close. For that moment they had finally joined soul to soul, identity and identity -- the princess and the minstrel, the warrior and the scout, the hunter and the prey.

"I love you Ry," he breathed into her warm skin, his voice oddly calm. Resignation to their fate, and that this would be their last meeting, had finally settled into them both.

"I love you too, Gayne." She kissed him on the forehead. Unknowingly on the mark of the Yvarna his bangs tried to cover. It was hot to the touch and almost singed her lips. Horror flooder her face when she realized what that had meant. She held a hand to his cheek and it was cold and clammy. The curse was killing him.

Gayne stifled a whimper as the pain grew. The mark would burn him from the inside out and create a fever from which there was no cure but one - one final cure. Riyarra held him tight as his temperature quickly rose. His skin was uncomfortably hot and growing until it would burn her.

"R.ry.." he panted.

"Shhh love. I'm here. I won't let you go." She stifled the pain in her voice and forced herself to sooth him. Slowly she rocked his body soothingly, trying to give some measure of comfort to her dying friend.

"Ry," he managed to blurt out. His temperature was almost scalding her now, but she refused to let him go. He had made his choice, he choose to protect their secret, to protect their love and the memories of their past. Gayne had refused to let that be corrupted by the curse of the Yvarna, even if that meant betraying his king. She would never let him go for that. "D-do it Ry. I want you to do it." He wheezed. But before she could respond, the final exhale of breath came, and Gayne went limp.

He was gone.

Riyarra held him to her, and allowed the tears to fall. There she sat and cried her pain out. The princess returned, and the warrior stood by solemnly. It could not deny the sacrifice this brave soldier had made in the name of his loyalty. But when it felt she had grieved enough, it placed a gentle hand on The Princess and they changed places without a word. Her sobbing eased, and she laid the body down to the ground reverently. She placed a hand on his chest and closed her eyes to concentrate on the spell.