Authors: Julia Sexton
“Ac’ver, if you wish it, that will be how it is.”
Mary was so relieved she hugged him.
“And one more thing…”
He laughed and asked, “What is that?”
“I will help you train for The Combat.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next morning Zu’ver helped her dress for the ceremony. She chose the second black dress that Tu’ver had shown her that first morning and the same black boots.
Then she carefully arranged Mary’s auburn curls so that curling tendrils hung down the side of her face but piled the rest of her hair in a knot held with a long pin. At exactly 10 minutes before noon, Zu’ver placed a white cloak of the same soft fabric over her shoulders and fastened it closed in the front with a large gold pin.
The two of them left Mary’s room and took the elevator down to a rabbit warren of office spaces. “This is where all the business of the planet, the true ruling occurs. Financial and trade transactions, record keeping, everything that supports governance happens.”
She led Mary expertly through the halls and corridors until they could go no farther. She opened a door at the end of the hallway. Inside The Arbiter stood in the center of the room. Tu’von and Tu’ver stood to one side. In front of them Ac’von stood beaming.
Zu’ver lead Mary covered in her white cloak to stand next to Ac’von. The Arbiter beamed at her and then began the ceremony. It was all in Raman and Mary, with her limited table-chair vocabulary, was unable to understand. The Arbiter paused. Ac’von came closer and looked into her eyes. His face shone with pleasure. He reached out and pulled free the pin in her hair. As it tumbled around her shoulders he ran his fingers gently through the curls.
Then he stepped back to look at everyone in the room. The Arbiter stepped forward and with a dramatic sweep of his arm pulled the pin fastening her white cloak. The cloak fell to the floor as Ac’von took her in his arms.
Everyone applauded as he pressed his lips against hers and the fire roared through her body. The next two weeks would be a trial of her patience. She wondered if she could wait until The Combat was over.
“My Ac’ver, secret queen,” he murmured. Then he broke away and turned to all, “Let us celebrate the continuance of the clan of Black. Right leadership, sound counsel, and a beautiful queen.”
Servants unveiled a table covered with delicacies. Ac’von strode to the table and poured some Raman wine into two golden goblets. He came back to Mary and handed her a goblet. Then he touched his goblet to hers. “To The Blacks, Rama, and The Queen Ac’ver.” They both sipped from each other’s goblets.
Everyone crowded around to congratulate them.
Mary made her first proclamation as queen. “And, now to practice.”
The next few days Mary went through the spy reports on Ri’son and drilled Ac’von in the fine wrist movements necessary for skilled parries. What she discovered was that he could do them well enough with her, but when he practiced with other swordsmen who used big, broad strokes his attention would go to the strength and not to skilled maneuvers.
Ac’von kept his promise. The wall was in place each night and he did not try to overcome her with his power. Mary noticed how fair he was with each person he met whether a spy reporting, a civil servant bringing reports on grain movement, or his fellow combatants in the gymnasium. She felt her respect for him grow.
But one thing troubled her, his incredibly rude behavior in Cherryvale. She just couldn’t reconcile that with the Ac’von she had experienced since she came to Rama. As the days went by and she saw him behave in such honorable ways to everyone she became even more confused. How could that rude, aggressive treatment be the same person she experienced each day? Would he revert to that behavior at some unexpected moment? How could she trust him?
Their night of sexual splendor was never far from her mind. She was drawn to his body the moment he entered a room. Watching him move in the gym sent shivers down her spine. He was a beautiful creation. Watching him move made her heart beat in uneven rhythm. She found herself catching her breath as he made some powerful move in practice or even when he walked across the room before sitting down to dine with her. She kept the physical attraction in check, most of the time, because that man she had experienced in Cherryvale was always in the back of her mind.
One day not only the spies, but rumors in the palace, spread about Ri’son. He had killed two of his own Reds in practice combat. The story went that he had lost his temper and deliberately stabbed one in the back.
As Zu’ver put it in her chatty way, “His opponent won the bout and as he turned to leave, Ri’son roared and ran him through from behind. Those Reds, they have no scruples. And Ri’son is the worst of them all.”
Mary felt a chill of fear. Before this moment, The Combat had been theoretical, something that with right training Ac’von would win with finesses against brute force.
“And what happened to the second man?”
“Oh, that was worse. The way the story goes, and I have heard several versions, Ri’son was practicing out in a field to imitate the rough ground of the arena. The Reds were cheering him on. A crowd of onlookers gathered around.
Someone from the crowd cried, ‘Ac’von.’ Ri’son stopped his practice and turned in a circle eyeing the crowd. Then, you know how big he is, Queen Ac’ver, he turned to his sparring partner and said, ‘This is what I will do to Ac’von!’ He raised his sword and before everyone he brought it down on his opponent’s shoulder.
The blade cut down to the waist. Oh, my Queen, the stories that are going around. My friend, Su’ver, was only a few blocks away. She heard the roars, and she says…”
Mary didn’t hear anymore. Her mind was gripped in fear. Ac’von! Then her heart flooded with emotions. She realized she cared about him.
She cared about him in a very personal way. She remembered his attentiveness on their walk among the people, and his conscious attempts to include her in decisions rather than ordering her to do something. He was like a little kid learning new lessons. She thought about how his face lit up when he got it right. D
id he care about her? He said he “knew” she was the one for him, but she had thought that was some physical attraction, not genuine caring. And that his politeness was some trained behavior pattern for being in charge, his political acumen.
Suddenly, she wanted to be with him, to hold him, to have him hold her. She wanted to feel his hand caressing her cheek or running through her hair. But he was in some civic meeting.
She kept herself busy waiting for him to return from the meeting. She opened the wall, she had the servants bring in a table of food and wine, she rearranged the chairs in front of the window—an in here, an inch there. At last she heard his footsteps in the hall outside the door.
When he entered she rushed into his arms crying, “Ac’von. Oh, Ac’von.”
“What is it?” he asked, responding to her alarm.
Mary felt the warmth of his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart calmed her fears.
“I’ve been here long enough to be afraid. I heard the most terrifying stories about Ri’son.”
“Yes, I heard them, too. But he has always been like that. Isn’t that how you experienced him on Earth, just emotionally not physically? He bullies.”
“But, now you are in physical danger.” She pressed her head against his shoulder. Just feeling his strong presence calmed her fears.
“We fought once before,” Ac’von said. “Here, let’s sit and I will tell you.” He led her to the chairs by the window. Stars twinkled. Mary longed for the simplicity of Cherryvale. Isn’t that why she had moved there after her job disappeared? Plain, everyday, normal people with everyday concerns. Now here she was on a distant planet, a queen of a people she didn’t understand who didn’t even know she was queen…yet. She leaned against Ac’von as he told the story.
“We were very young, not really men. But he sent an examination over a small, perceived affront over a game. The issue doesn’t matter. I’ve experienced him in a fight. I think you call it being a ‘dirty fighter.’
Anything that he can do to distract or feint his intention he does. I’m sure he is more skilled at it now than he was then. I won that fight, but it was merely luck. You’ve seen how the ground is uneven in the arena and in the midst of fighting things fall to the ground. That day there was a metal bracelet hidden in the earth. He stepped on it and stumbled.”
“Would you have won if he hadn’t stumbled?”
“I don’t know…I don’t know. Then, we were about the same size. But, now…now, he is so much bigger.”
He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. Mary snuggled into him. Her breasts tingled as fire shot through her body.
Ac’von stroked her curls. Shivers ran down her back as her core ignited in fire. He ran his hand over her shoulder. He moved in the seat to turn toward her. He brought is sensual lips next to hers and pressed them into a kiss. She felt his tongue probe along her lips. Her fear dissipated in the heat of her response.
“Ac’ver,” he said. “I am going to tell you a secret. I know you will not tell this to anyone.”
Mary looked up into his dark, almond shaped eyes. She saw fear.
“I am afraid.” He let it hang in the air.
“I am afraid, too,” Mary said. “But your fear is easier to conquer. You are afraid of losing, right? Afraid of letting down the Blacks, Rama, and The Way.”
“Yes. It is not just me.” He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes as his fingers stroked her jawline. “You are my Ac’ver. I must take care of you.”
Mary said, “I have a secret, too. This afternoon when I heard about Ri’son and the things he did to men who were supporting him, innocent in their own way, I felt something new. I cared about you. It wasn’t that if something happened to you I would be doomed as an untouchable. I realized that I care for you in a way I’ve never felt before.”
“What is that way?”
“Deep, in my heart.”
“Ah, your heart. You are not afraid of me anymore? Or angry at me?”
“No, I want to be with you. I like being with you. Yes, all of Rama and the customs, all of that is new. But I like the time we spend together. Even the quiet time. I’ve never sat quietly with someone before. It’s like being together and being united in silence.”
“What about the time in the gym? That is the opposite of quiet.” Ac’von laughed. “You can yell with the best of them.”
Mary blushed. “It’s my training. Different than yours, but I’ve been fencing since I was a child.”
“Ah, my fencing master and my queen.”
Mary laughed and snuggled into him feeling his warmth ease her fear.
“I am so far from Cherryvale.”
They had made a promise. She wanted to break it. She wanted to take off his clothes and climb on top of him and make love until they were both spent. All the fires burned inside.
“Ac’von, from now until The Combat, I will be your fencing master. We will drill and drill every parry that I can think of. I will show you how to push his sword aside and then go in on attack. No wild wielding of the sword. Every move you make will be calculated.”
She stood up and then bent down to kiss him on the cheek. “Tomorrow morning we go beyond practice to strategy. Now, it’s time for sleep.”
Before he could say a word she activated the wall and walked through the door into her room.
CHAPTER NINE
“Aieeeeee! Thrust. Now. Thrust!” Mary cried as Ac’von sparred with the best swordsman at the gym. “Do it again and this time don’t hesitate. Go from pushing his sword aside to going forward with a thrust.”
They repositioned and began again. Ac’von moved very quickly. As beautiful as he was to watch, Mary kept her eye on the blade. This time, his wrist turned up to push the blade away and then his powerful legs moved him forward into a thrust that hit his burly opponent squarely on the chest. Mary had him sparring with the burliest men of the Blacks.
“It works. It works. I see it now,” Ac’von exclaimed with pleasure and pride.
The rest of the week Ac’von practiced under Mary’s tutelage. And, word went out from the gymnasium. The new queen was a master swordsman. Whenever she was out, people cheered.
Mary thought, if we have spies, Ri’son must have them too. Was he practicing? But all the reports came back that Ri’son was hewing and hacking at his opponents without any change. Was it a ruse? If it was, it was a good one.
They practiced until there was no tomorrow.
The day of The Combat Mary woke early. Was Ac’von ready? Would fast movements really overcome the brute power Ri’son displayed? Even more worrying was Ri’son’s habit of unpredictable ruthlessness. Whether leading unscrupulous science or fighting with weapons, he was not above cheating.
She was glad Zu’ver came in with her cheerful chatter to help her dress. Her hands shook with nervous apprehension. She dropped her juice cup at breakfast. Ac’von seemed calm on the outside but she could tell he was a taught wire on the inside.
All of them took the elevator down: Mary, Ac’von, Tu’ver, Tu’von, The Arbiter. Zu’ver and others crowded in behind them. In the long underground tunnel, Ac’von waved the others on. He took Mary’s hand and pulled her close. Her heart was beating wildly and his embrace calmed her.
“My, Ac’ver. Today we will win. I know this. Whatever happens you are queen. I know that you will protect The Way, even The Combat.”
“Ac’von, I can’t talk about it.” Her heart began to beat wildly again. Her breath came in little gasps. “But, I promise.”
He touched her face as his almond eyes gazed into her eyes. She felt an overwhelming desire to be his. She wanted not just to touch his body and do wild things; she wanted the quiet times when they understood each other without speaking. If it took coming to another planet to find him, she was glad she was here on Rama.
Ac’von pressed her even closer. “We are one. Ac’ver, my queen.”
Mary whispered, “We are one.”
They walked down the rest of the tunnel holding hands. When they reached the platform Ac’von kept walking until they were once again at the edge.
He held up Mary’s arm. A great cheer went up in the crowd. Except for the Reds. And then a chant started, “Kiss the swordsman. Kiss the swordsman.”
Ac’von took waved then took Mary in his arms, twirled her around as he had before, and then pressed his lips to hers sending those fire waves pulsing through her body.
Everything went as before. The White announcer called each Combat. The bouts continued. The gore spread over the arena floor. Mary did her best to stay calm. Then the announcer called for sword combat. Today there was only one other pair fighting.
Ac’von rose, took off his tunic, reached for his sword. He paused to give Mary a smile and descended the stairs down to the arena. Ri’son lumbered down from the Red section.
Mary felt her heart pounding. Tu’ver reached over to hold her hand.
The entire stadium became a great roar. The other combatants stood ready. As Ac’von and Ri’son faced off in the arena, drums beat a relentless pounding rhythm. Their silence meant the beginning of the Combat. The moment the drums stopped Ri’son let out a great yell, waved his sword over his head and brought it down with immense force. Ac’von diverted the blade to his left. The sword missed his shoulder, but the tip grazed his left arm.
Mary knew what a hit looked like. She gasped. Now her heart was beating wildly. All her doubts and fears about a culture that seemed barbaric came flooding in. How could a people let their ruler be so exposed?
The crowd was silent. It was as if the entire planet was holding its breath. The other Combatants grunted and swung. Ri’son raised his sword again.
Ac’von stood ready and thrust forward. The moment he did, Ri’son’s sword came pounding down. Ac’von diverted the blow. A murmur of appreciation went through the crowd like a wave. Mary was sure everyone could hear her heart beating.
Ac’von’s wound began seeping. Small rivulets of blood streamed down the taught bicep and into the hollow of his elbow. Tu’ver squeezed Mary’s hand.
Oh, my Ac’von
, she thought,
blood loss tires the fighter.
Then she realized how she had thought of him: My Ac’von.
Yes
, she thought.
My Ac’von
.
The other fighting pair had a clear winner. Both alive but the loser severely wounded. Ac’von and Ri’son exchanged blows but mostly it was clanging of metal with not hits on either side…except for that very first wound to Ac’von.
Mary was torn. She wanted to watch every minute move that Ac’von made and she wanted to close her eyes to make it all go away. When she looked at Tu’ver she saw silent tears flowing down her cheeks. Next to her, Tu’von sat stern and mute. Ri’son cried out. Ac’von had hit his shoulder of his sword arm. It wasn’t just a scratch it was a piercing wound, blood flowed down his immense chest.
Ri’son roared in anger as he bent over in pain. With another roar, he brought his drooping sword arm up aimed at Ac’von’s chest. Ac’von deftly parried the sword to the left and thrust toward Ri’son’s thigh. The cut was strong. Blood rushed from Ri’son’s leg as he stumbled forward and fell to the ground. He tried to raise himself up, but only one leg supported his weight. He fell forward. He pushed up again and fell.
A beat of silence in the arena as the entire crowd stopped breathing waiting to see what would happen next.
The White announcer rose. “The Day of The Combat is successfully terminated. Rama reigns us all.”
Slowly the crowd began a rhythmic cheer, Ac’von, Ac’von, Ac’von.
Ac’von raised his sword then tossed it onto the dirt of the arena. Reds rushed down to help Ri’son with his wounds.
Ac’von walked calmly across the arena floor and mounted the steps to the pavilion. Mary burst into tears of relief and ran toward him as he came up the last step. “Ac’von, oh, Ac’von,” she burst weeping into his arms.
“I couldn’t have won without you,” he whispered as a huge smile lit up his face. “He is very, very strong.”
He bent his head and kissed her, then swept her into his arms. His manly aroma from the fight assaulted her nostrils. She found she loved it. He had won!
“Now, for the next part,” he said. Once again he took her hand, raised their joined hands high and walked to the edge of the pavilion. The noise of the crowd subsided.
Ac’von took a deep breath and then spoke. “The sky is indeed beautiful.”
He turned toward Mary and continued, “My Queen, Ac’ver of the Blacks.”
The Arbiter came to the front to address the crowd. “Ac’von of the Blacks and Ac’ver of Earth were united in ceremony. As of this day Ac’von is Ruler of Rama.” The crowd cheered.
The Arbiter continued. “From this moment I declare the Week of the New Ruler. The bride parade will progress through the streets tomorrow morning. Let us all celebrate. Rama reigns us all.”
People began streaming onto the arena floor so all the colors mixed. The sound was deafening. Mary looked at Ac’von. “Yes,” she said, her heart now beating with excitement. “I am your Queen.”
They turned together from the edge of the pavilion and headed toward the exit. Tu’von was giving a farewell speech, but the crowd was not listening.
In their room, Mary dressed Ac’von’s wound after he showered. She ran her fingers along the taught bicep, under the ragged scrape. She felt her breasts tighten and her nipples pucker against the supple fabric of the black dress. She tingled with excitement and desire. Inside her core, she felt the fire surge.
“Ac’von, I never knew I could care so deeply.”
He nodded and then pulled her to him. His lips, fresh from the shower, pressed hers. She parted her full lips to taste him. She looked into his unwavering eyes dark almond eyes and slid her tongue along the line of his lips.
His lips met hers, more tentative than that night before, somehow holding back from the assertive pressure.
He trailed light kisses across her mouth until he reached the other side of her mouth. Mary had never had anyone treat her with such appreciation and warmth. She never knew there was so much to kiss just on her lips. Such tenderness.
As light as his kisses were she felt she was going to explode. Explode with delight, and recognition, and passion. Her body ached for him. She felt heat rising. She felt the wetness grow inside her as her vulva swelled with warmth.
He moved his lips full over hers, parted them and kissed with strength. She could feel his desire, and she could feel his cock pushing against her heat.
More than that there was a connection between them. It was an unspoken understanding. A hunger rose in each of them as his lips pressed with fervor and his tongue slid along the expanse of her lips.
Then they both kissed deeply, lost in the depths of the kiss and their hunger for each. Mary did not want the kiss to end. She didn’t know a kiss could last that long or be so deep. So full. A moan came unbidden into her throat as she pressed her lips to his with a fever of desire.
She reached up and grabbed the back of his head with both hands. Her tongue pushed into his mouth and explored the taste of him, the smooth inside of his mouth hungry with wanting.
He pulled back his head slightly and murmured, “Ac’ver.”
The intensity of the name came on her in a flash of revelation. It was like taking a man’s last name in marriage back in Cherryvale.
Ac’ver
meant she was his. She belonged to him. And like a bride saying her new husband’s name, Mrs. Johnson, on earth for the very first time, she whispered. “Ac’ver, yes, I am Ac’ver.”
She wasn’t Mary Smith anymore. As Ac’ver, she touched his face tracing the rugged lines along his brow and then feeling his chiseled cheekbone under her fingertips.
He ran his strong fingers through her ginger curls. Each stroke of his hand sent a bolt of electricity through her body. She felt his shaft press against her.
“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Strong, and talented, and breathtakingly beautiful.”
He said it with such sincerity, she believed him. Not words of flattery but how he saw her. She luxuriated in the idea that he really felt this way. No one before had meant those words. They’d used the words to flatter her, usually just to get her into bed. But they had been together. Mated as he called it. Whatever he called it she liked it more than anything she had ever known.
She felt her body’s readiness for more. Her nipples were taught and inside she was on fire.
Ac’von looked into her eyes and said, “Are you ready to be queen?”
Without hesitation, she responded, “Yes.”
Then his eyes twinkled as he said, “All of this must wait.”
“What?” she murmured in alarm.
“Yes, now that I am officially declared Ruler by The Arbiter, people are waiting in the regal reception. There will be genuine congratulations along with flatterers. And…” His eyes looked positively merry. “Everyone wants to meet the new Queen.”
“Let’s find your crown and meet them.”