The Hexhunt

"Hm... let's call it cocksureness instead."

Elemiel closed her eyes and winced theatrically. "Oh ho, his wit is as sharp as his swordsmanship," she said in a mocking tone.

"And twice as deadly."

"Asper, your ego never ceases to amaze me."

"I am amazing, aren't I?" The knight pushed away from the door and took a step towards Elemiel, closing the distance between them. His smell enfolded her, spice and leather and faint traces of weapon oil.

Elemiel lowered her eyes and leaned in. She gently placed a hand on the side of Asper's face, enjoying the texture of his stubble against the tips of her fingers. She traced those fingers down his jawline, then flattened her palm against his chest. She could feel the beat of his heart, strong and steady.

"Asper," she said, letting his name roll off her tongue like a love song. She tucked part of the thick, luxurious mane of her hair behind one ear as she finally looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and dark through the curtain of her long lashes. She fluttered them coquettishly, extremely aware of the effect they would have.

"Yes?" the knight replied. His voice was a hoarse rasp, and she felt his pulse quicken under the palm of her hand. The poor boy was practically vibrating with the desire to touch her.

"I hope you have a very pleasant day."

The elf pushed him back gently, teasingly, and took a backward step from the doorway. Her eyes were alight with mischief, and she gave him a devious little wink.

Asper blew out a long, tortured breath, the heat in his gaze crackling across the distance she put between them. "You absolute minx," he muttered, practically glaring at Elemiel. "How in the hells am I supposed to concentrate on anything after such torture?"

Elemiel's shrug was languid and unconcerned. "I would've thought a place like this possessed several options for cold showers."

"Vixen," he accused. "Tell me that we're still on for dinner tonight."

"Of course," the elf inclined her head. "You still owe me a proper date, remember? Last night at the museum hardly counts, given that we almost died."

"Excellent." Asper's grin turned wolfish, and a gleam entered the gray of his eyes. "Come hungry, Elemiel. I know I will."

The elf flipped her hair, her tresses shimmering in a dark waterfall. "I wouldn't worry about that," she said, favoring him with a positively carnivorous look. "My appetites are legendary."

***

Elemiel's carriage pulled up in front of the Glass Ballet restaurant just as the sun was setting behind the Yvlyenian skyline.

The traditional blue slate tiles of the city's gabled roofs were bathed in hues of gold, pink, and purple by the fading light smudged across the gray sky. Snow had been threatening to fall all day and the clouds gathering in the bruised-purple distance looked ominous, but for now, the storm had parted to let the last of the sunlight fall on the capital.

Elemiel placed her hand on the handle of the carriage door and took a breath, which was when she realized, to her great and utter shock, that she was nervous. Elemiel knew that she should probably be more apprehensive about the Hexhunt tomorrow and the prospect of confronting Ditherington, but that physical danger paled when compared to the peril offered by Asper's fulsome lips.

How can a date with a knight unwoman you so? she scolded herself, but at the same time, she knew exactly the reason. She hadn't felt this way about a person since Erik, and after her sweet, kind husband had passed, Elemiel hadn't thought such emotion would rekindle within her.

Then Asper had broken into her house, crashed her party, and flirted his way into her life with those eyes of his and that silly, crooked grin.

You silly elf, she thought as she stepped out of the carriage. Pull yourself together this instant.

Facing Asper meant facing herself in a certain sense, and adventures of the heart were far more perilous than those of the flesh. The wounds certainly went deeper.

Elemiel stood on the sidewalk on the broad, circular boulevard that ringed Emerald Hill. Fashionable shops, restaurants, and theaters lined the street, bright with lights and the sounds of music and mirth even on a winter's night as cold as this. The enchanted blue jewel on the choker around her throat prevented the elf from feeling the worst of it, but the icicles dripping from the awnings of the buildings signified just how chilly it was.

A breeze stirred the folds of Elemiel's gown, which was a gray and silver affair of sheer silk and sewn crystal droplets. After concluding their business in the countryside with Charlie Lethe, Talina and Elemiel had returned to her home to change. When Elemiel had come down the stairs, Talina took one look at the dress and snorted.

"Goin' for the deathblow, are you then?" she'd said with a shake of her head and a knowing look. "And here the city was just getting used to the idea that the famous Sunstriker was alive, after all."

The overall effect of the dress made it appear that Elemiel was wearing a rainstorm, albeit one that accentuated the hourglass shape of her figure and set forth a fine view of her prodigious bosom. She did look--if Elemiel was being honest--fucking amazing.

"Don't wait up, Tal," the elven woman called to her friend sitting in the coach. Talina leaned on her elbow and looked down at Elemiel from the driver's seat.

"You sure?" she asked, nodding at the cloud-choked sunset horizon. "Looks like a storm's brewing."

The elf nodded. "All the better reason for you not to be caught in it. I can take a water-taxi home if I need to."

"Right," Talina chuckled, "if you need to. Well, have fun Elemiel. But not too much. You've got a big day tomorrow with the Hexhunt, remember."

"Thank you mother," Elemiel replied fondly.

Talina cracked the reins and pulled back into the traffic clogging the boulevard, and Elemiel turned towards the glittering frontage of the restaurant. Asper could've only chosen a fancier place to eat if he'd invited her back to the Emerald Palace. The Glass Ballet was a common destination for nobles and diplomats. It was a place for the well-heeled to see and be seen and for those with aspirations to power to come and make their plays.

She strode inside, handing her griffon-fur cloak to an attendant. Elemiel swept her gaze across the interior of the restaurant as she was shown to her table. The dining room gave the predominant impression of crystal and gold, with green leather and white tablecloths adorning the chairs and circular tables.

The space was capped by a high ceiling of class lit by bobbing globes of enchanted golden light. The clientele, like the city's populace, were a diverse bunch, but they all had one thing in common; money. Every person Elemiel saw appeared to be dripping with jewels and wrapped in enough silk to provide the sails for a fleet of ships.

Clearly, Asper was trying to impress. Elemiel thought the place was a bit pretentious, but she appreciated the effort.

The knight rose from the table, and when she caught sight of him Elemiel felt her heart skip a beat or two. He was... well, he was gorgeous. He'd shaved, and the dark brown of his hair was stylishly cut. He wore a double-breasted jacket, black on black with a filigree of subtle midnight paisley. His matching waistcoat was accented with silver thread that brought out the gray of his eyes, and he wore a high-collared shirt underneath with no tie.

My, Elemiel thought, her mind unable to rub two brain cells together to produce any better commentary than that. My, my my.

To her relief, the sight of her appeared to have a similarly mind-numbing effect on Asper. He looked at her as if she were as radiant and mysterious as the winter sunset outside, and she warmed herself with his consideration. Elemiel stood there and let him drink his fill of her. His eyes walked up and down her body, from the jewels hanging from her pointed ears to the tips of the crystal-studded slingbacks she wore on her feet. He took in the sight of her with a devouring hunger that set her soul alight.

"You look..." he trailed off, then finished with, "wow."

"Eloquent as always," she said as she slid into the seat he held out for her, although it was everything she could do not to beam with pleasure at his attention.

"Should we get some wine?" Asper asked, unable to take his eyes off of her to look at the menu. "We should probably get some wine. Right?"

Adorably flustered. She wasn't sure what she liked more--the confident knight or the tongue-tied suitor.

Elemiel rested her chin in her hand. "I am parched," she admitted. "I spent the day in the countryside. I've worked up quite a thirst."

They both looked up at the sound of footfalls, but it wasn't the waiter who approached. Instead, a pair of young women wearing pearls and pale yellow chiffon sidled up to the table.

"Hi," said the first one, while the second gave a simpering giggle. "Terribly sorry to intrude, but are you the knight known as the Sunstriker?"

The girl addressed her question to Asper and didn't sound sorry in the slightest. Elemiel lifted one eyebrow but held her tongue.

"I am," Asper said with good-natured politeness. "What can I do for you?"

This time both of the women giggled. "It's just that we heard you were dead," the first girl said in a stage whisper. "Our friends will never believe that we met you without some kind of proof. Would you mind signing a napkin?"

The second girl held out a square of white cloth, along with a small tube of red lipstick. Asper accepted both with a smile, then some latent sense of self-preservation kicked in. He shifted his gaze to Elemiel.

"Oh, ah, you don't mind, do you?" he asked.

"By all means," Elemiel replied. Her smile most certainly did not reach her eyes.

Asper signed his name quickly on the cloth and handed the items back to the women. "Thank you so much," the first girl said. She batted her big doe eyes at Asper with all of the subtlety of a charging rothé. "It's such an honor to have met you. You're even better looking than the songs claim."

"Anneli!" the second girl gasped with a scandalized giggle.

Alright, enough is enough.

"What a lovely pair of dresses," Elemiel said to the women with all the disingenuous charm she could muster. "You two look like a pair of perfect little lemons. I bet you're just as sweet."

The first girl's eyes narrowed, but the second one grabbed her arm and whispered something in her ear. They both gave a quick curtsey to Asper, then turned on their heels and left without another word.

"Ta," Elemiel said perfunctorily, flicking her fingers at the canary-clad girls, who slunk back to their own table with their tails between their legs. "Thanks for stopping by," she called after them.

"Your savagery would put a Norlish berzerker to shame," Asper chuckled.

"Please," Elemiel said flatly. "I went easy on them. That first one left you a visiting card with her address on it."

Asper looked down in surprise at the tabletop to where the rectangle of stiff paper lay. In addition to the girl's address, a kiss had been planted on the card in bright red lipstick.

"Cheeky devils," Asper muttered.

"Maybe we can get that wine now," Elemiel suggested.

"Right," he said, "where's the waiter?"

"Asper!" someone shouted from across the dining room. "By the dangling cock of Adonis, the Fisherfather's droopy ballsack, and the taint of old Baeltheous himself, it is you!"

An older, round-bellied half-orc man with a red face and a pair of thick mutton chops approached them, weaving unsteadily through the tables. Elemiel wrinkled her nose at the reek of alcohol pouring off of him. The man wore a military uniform with a brace of medals. He jangled at the slightest movement, and there was enough gold filigree on his sleeves to make his jacket look like it had been dipped in scrambled eggs.

"Admiral Nathaenil, it's good to see you." Asper's voice made it clear that it was, in fact, anything but. Alas, the drunken admiral didn't pick up on the knight's tone.

"Gods! I heard you were dead. Lost out beyond the Godswall or something on another of your adventures."

Asper gave him a tight-lipped smile. "As you can see, the rumors of my death were only that."

"Just so, just so," the half-orc admiral said, scratching at his prodigious belly. "Well, why don't you come over to my table? The lads would love to hear the story of your latest escapade firsthand." He gestured vaguely at a group of men over in one corner of the room.

"Some other time," Asper said. "I'm extremely preoccupied at the moment." He cast a meaningful glance at Elemiel.

The admiral seemed to notice Elemiel for the first time. His eyes widened as he stared at her, quaffing the sight of the lovely elf much like she imagined he guzzled the drink in his hand.

A gleam entered Admiral Nathaenil's golden eyes. "What an enchanting creature," he slurred, a leer spreading across his face. "Back to your old tricks, eh Sunstriker?"

"I wasn't aware that the Sunstroker had such a large fan club," Elemiel said dryly. Asper winced, but Admiral Nathaenil plowed forward, full speed ahead.

"I beg your pardon, milady," he said with ponderous gentility, "but you look awfully familiar. Have we met?"

Elemiel's left eyebrows rose, almost imperceptibly. "You came to a gala I hosted at my home last winter," she said.

The admiral just stared at her blankly.

"I believe you vomited in one of the decorative dwarven urns in my reception hall."

A flicker of recognition passed across the old half-orc's face. "Ahh, of course! Elemiel the elf. Right-o. Ha! Gods, but that was a smashing party, from what I can remember."

"Which probably isn't all that much, given how much of my drakefire brandy you drank," she said sweetly.

"Eh?" said the admiral, scratching at his ear as if he'd misheard her.

"It's been nice seeing you," Asper cut in, "but we're really rather famished at the moment. I'm sure I'll see you back at the Palace."

The half-orc finally seemed to catch on. "Ah, of course, of course. Well, I'm glad you're alive, DeNallare. To your health, and the health of the pretty elf with the fantastic rack, Ezekiel!" The man tossed back the last of the liquid in his glass, then stumbled back to his table.

"I would not put that man in charge of a canal boat," Elemiel gritted out as the half-orc stumbled into a serving cart, "let alone a single ship in the Divonian navy."

"Gods, but this is turning into a bit of a shitshow," Asper said. "I could really use a glass of wine."

"Maybe something stronger," suggested Elemiel.

"Agreed." The knight looked around for the waiter, then groaned.

"What now?" Elemiel sighed.

"Don't look behind you, but I think the head of the adventurer's guild just clocked us."

"Oh bollocks." Elemiel resisted the urge to slide down her chair and under the table to escape. "Honestly it's a toss-up whether she's headed this way to harass me or you."

"Damn it," Asper said resignedly. "I perhaps should have thought this through a bit more. Of course, everyone in the Glass Ballet would want a piece of one or another of us. It just seemed like the fanciest place I could bring you, and I wanted to... what?" he trailed off, noting Elemiel's smile.

"It was a sweet idea," Elemiel said, "but how would you feel about getting the fuck out of here?"

"Trying to get out of the date before the first course arrives," Asper winced, "not a great sign."

"Don't be so dramatic," the elf said, leaning across the table with a conspiratorial twinkle in her lavender eyes. "Come on. I know a place in the Iron Ward where we won't be quite so conspicuous."

Asper looked skeptical. "An Iron Ward tavern?" He thumbed the lapel of his dinner jacket. "The way we're dressed, we'll stick out like a pair of sore thumbs."

Elemiel shook her head. "Let me rephrase; people will know who we are. They just won't give a shit. Now, I'm going to pretend to go to the water closet and you can do the chivalrous, knightly thing and deal with the head of the Adventurer's Guild. Meet me outside in five minutes."

The Blackbird and the Battle-elf

The colorful, hand-painted sign which marked the Tipsy Cow tavern swung on its chains in the wind, but the golden light and laughter pouring out of the door onto the street were as inviting as a coinlass in a Cerulean brothel. A gentle snow had begun to fall, and the noise and cheer spilling from the tavern onto the street was an oasis of comfort on a wintery night.

"Here we are," declared Elemiel, staring fondly at the battered wooden door that marked the tavern's entrance.

"An adventurer's bar?" Asper asked. "I can't say that I'm surprised," he chuckled. "Lead on then, Elemiel the wild-hearted."

The inside of the Tipsy Cow was packed with people; adventurers, hangers-on, clients, and even the just plain curious all gathered together to escape the storm brewing outside. Robed mages and armored clerics rubbed shoulders with tattooed berzerkers and clever-fingered thieves, while druids with antler-crowns and clouds of butterflies tried to keep their animal companions from stealing food from tables.

People wore all kinds of outlandish dress--they passed by one girl with long, dark hair sporting a truly daring set of armor that looked like it might be more at home on the beach than in an adventurer's bar during a blizzard. The girl in the armor-bikini sat at a table next to two of her compatriots, a redheaded lass with dark eye-makeup and a night-skinned dark elf with curly hair the color of bone. The trio looked strangely familiar, but Elemiel couldn't quite put her finger on where she'd seen them before.

Weapons hung from the taproom's walls, and there was a stuffed wyvern's head hanging above the large hearth. The fireplace roared with a magnificent blaze that would've done the maw of a dragon proud. The common tables were packed, as was the bar along the back.

Elemiel grabbed Asper's hand and pulled him through the busy room. There was a general air of madcap comradeship about the place that warmed her heart as much as the fire warmed her flesh. The Tipsy Cow was the sort of place where you could punch someone in the face and buy them a beer to apologize with no hard feelings afterward.

Elemiel had spent countless nights in this place with the rest of Golden Bower getting roaring drunk on mead and blueberry wine. She hadn't come back often after she'd married Erik and left the band, and she'd certainly never brought a date here. But with Asper... well, Elemiel thought that he might appreciate the atmosphere. As it happened, she was right.

"This place," Asper declared, watching a bearded dwarven woman wearing a pair of thick spectacles arm-wrestle a trollkin berzerker into submission, "is fucking amazing."

"I can't believe you've never been here before," Elemiel said, shouting to be heard over the bard plucking out a rousing ballad on the common room's small stage.

Asper shrugged. "The Friendly Dragon over in the Golden Point District is my usual go-to adventuring bar."

Elemiel just laughed. "The Friendly Dragon? Of course it would be. You're so very posh, Your Highness."

"Oh stuff it. I'm not the one wearing a sapphire the size of a robin's egg about my neck. Nice choker, by the way."

"Glad you like it," Elemiel replied. "Maybe you can fill my throat with your cock and try to snap it later."

"What was that?" he said, cupping one hand over his ear. The bard had hit just the chorus of his song, and half the tavern had joined in to sing it. "Come again?"

"I certainly hope so," Elemiel agreed. "Let's get a drink."