As Jevan descended through the trapdoor, Senya turned to Alester, whose tired old eyes met hers. “Must you keep playing the heroic dark knight?” he asked quietly.
She braced her hips. “We’re Knightmares, aren’t we?”
“The original Knightmares had greater numbers. I’m not sure we’ll survive extinction.”
Anger surged through Senya. “Then what was the point of all those years of training?”
“Yes, I took you in to save the fight, save the Knightmares,” he leaned his back against the wall, “but I had no right to manipulate you.”
“You didn’t manipulate me. I choose how to use my training. All of us have been victims of Tymerian injustice. That makes us the next generation,” she declared, looking at the trapdoor. “Jevan may deny it, but he does care.”
Alester’s gaze was then far away as he stared out, interrogating his past. “I’m sure the others didn’t join for the same reasons you did.”
Senya fell silent for a moment, then raised her head and hardened her resolve. “I can’t speak for the others.”
Alester sighed. “Kyra and Yohnnus aren’t as passionate as you. As for Jevan…”
Senya took a deep breath, thinking of Jevan. She smiled to herself. “Jevan was born to wear the black mask, even if he denies it.” She met Alester’s eyes. “And I know you haven’t given up. Not entirely. There’s still fight in you, Alester. I don’t think time’s beaten you yet.”
Alester was silent for a moment, then approached Senya until he was within arm’s reach. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders, smiling in a way that made Senya feel she was looking at the father she’d never had.
“If there’s anyone here that’s already a Knightmare, it’s you, Senya.”
She tilted her head, puzzled. “You told us we were Knightmares when we passed the Trial and you gave us our masks.”
“You had all the skills a Knightmare needs, but you have the heart,” Alester said softly. “The last person I knew with such spirit was our founder. He knew a single life saved weighed more than a vault of gold. You’ve made me proud, Senya.”
Flooded with emotion, Senya embraced her true father. “We are the knights in the night.”
“I’ll be waiting for you at the Lupelle estate when you return.”
The rest of the day was spent asking the others to join them for the job. Both Kyra and Yohnnus resisted at first, but the promise of a generous payment ultimately proved enough motivation.
Senya made her way through the torchlit passages to her quarters. Once inside, she closed the door and released a breath.
“Ahem.”
Senya opened one eye, spotting a topless Jevan seated on the bed, holding a large flagon. “Care to join me?”
She smiled warmly. No matter what, Jevan always knew how to reach her. Within moments, she was in nothing but her smallclothes, seated beside him and raising the flagon up high as she poured the fresh wine into her eager mouth. Dry, as she liked it. She passed it to Jevan, who took a hearty gulp.
“If they paid with wine instead of gold, I’d still take the job,” Jevan said, belching.
Senya snatched the flagon back. “We need to meet him at sunset, so let’s not finish this just yet. After the job, we’ll finish three flagons.”
“You seem excited. You really want to do this?”
“Of course. Especially if we’re doing it together.” Senya took a final sip from the flagon before placing it away on the wooden nightstand beside the bed. “We’re a team, Jevan.”
“With benefits,” Jevan added, winking.
She playfully smirked. He was too cute.
“Well, it’s been some time since we’ve tackled a contract together,” Jevan said with a mischievous grin. “This job will be over before we know it.”
“Just behave yourself.”
“I will,” he smugly promised. “And since we don’t leave for the job for the next few hours, how about we pass the time?” He moved closer to her, his arm wrapping around her body as his hand slid down the small of her back to grip her buttock.
Giggling, she moved his arm off and stood. She was in the mood too. Standing in front of him, she knew exactly what he was asking. Reaching back, she removed the upper part of her smallclothes, the twin pouches supporting her breasts falling to the stone floor, her bottoms joining after.
She braced one hand on her hip and winked. “Are you sure? You may need to save your strength.”
Jevan’s dark eyes examined her exposed form. She’d never admit it, but she enjoyed how he admired her nakedness. As she stood before him in the cool air, goosebumps rising on her skin, Jevan removed his breeches and stood, closing the distance between them until only inches separated their bodies.
“Don’t underestimate my strength,” Jevan said with a grin, his confidence unwavering.
Before she could speak, his lips pressed hard against hers, the taste of rich red wine still fresh and lingering in his mouth. The warmth of his breath mingled with hers as their kiss deepened. Her full breasts pressed firmly against his chest as her arms encircled him, pulling him closer, her fingers tracing the contours of his shoulders and back. She let her weight pull them both down onto the bed, the soft sheets cool against their heated skin.
“Let’s test it then,” she whispered breathlessly when he broke off the kiss to move his face down to her chest, his lips trailing a path of fire across her collarbone. She bit her lower lip and suppressed her moan when he entered her, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, knowing he wouldn’t stop until she couldn’t suppress any sound.
It was what she adored most about his lovemaking, his refusal to let it end without both lovers thoroughly and completely satisfied. He was attentive, passionate, and dedicated to her pleasure as much as his own. Every touch, every movement was deliberate and filled with desire.
If only all men were unsatisfied until the woman was happily singing, she thought to herself afterward, lying in rumpled sheets.
“As I said,” Jevan breathed, his voice low and rough with desire, his hand cupping her bare backside possessively. His fingers spread across her soft skin, pulling her closer against him. “I have plenty of strength.”
She playfully shoved him aside, then mounted him, gazing down into his eyes. “I admire your confidence, but remember, the mightiest man can be slain by a single arrow. You’re human, like me. Like all of us.”
Both his hands were on her rump now, warm and firm against her skin. A shiver ran through her body as his hands lingered there, exploring the curves with deliberate slowness. “That’s why I’m planning on enjoying this life, and this ass, as much as I can.”
She leaned forward, bracing on her arms, forcing eye contact. “Jevan,” she said, her tone serious. “I enjoy this too, but we face death regularly. How many sellswords die peacefully in their sleep?”
Jevan turned his head away with a sigh. She knew how much he hated serious talks like these, especially after sex. But the more contracts they went on, the more she feared losing him. This isn’t love, she told herself. We fool around rather than have the commitment. This is for the sake of a comrade.
“Senya.” His voice had a rare mature tone. “I hear your point. I’ll be careful. But, if I’m going to die like all other mercenaries, let me live to the fullest.”
“Very well,” she said. “We still have about an hour before we need to leave.”
Jevan smirked. “Quick extra?”
Afterwards, Senya prepared for the job.
Senya preferred to travel light, dressing in form-fitting leather trousers that hugged her legs and hips comfortably. Her torso was protected by a snug shirt of black oiled ringmail beneath boiled leather, and her leather gloves fit like a second skin. Strapped to her back was a single longsword, standard for all Knightmares. Her bracers were equipped with two long, curved metal spikes useful for parrying if she lost her sword.
After painting a black stripe over their eyes, they donned their signature masks. Smooth dark metal shaped like small shields for the face, covering chin to mid-forehead. Each mask was made to fit properly and fully conceal the face, using stretchable straps to wrap around the head. The face of a Knightmare.
Jevan wasn’t entirely different. Like all Knightmares, everything he wore was black as night. His chest was covered by a boiled studded leather doublet over a shirt of dark ringmail, though he preferred loose woolen trousers. He wore leather gloves with small silver spikes studding the bracers and knuckles. His feet slid into leather boots with high iron shin-guards. Strapped to either side of his waist were two identical narrow single-edged sabers. The swords were twins, both with pommels made of polished black metal shaped like roaring dragon heads with crimson gems set into the eyes. Jevan referred to his sabers as the Twin Dragons.
Jevan examined his reflection in the mirror set against the stone wall. He drew one saber, raising it high. Unlike most swords, those of Nilosian steel looked more like blades already covered in blood. The blade was a wine-red color, shining like a mirror of fresh blood.
A shame such a beautiful metal only comes from an elven kingdom, Senya thought.
Jevan sheathed the blade. “Are you ready?” His voice echoed through the mask with a menacing quality, despite his calm tone. When masked, Jevan’s demeanor shifted, darker, more menacing.
“Yes,” she said, bending over and sliding her dagger into her high boot. “Now, let’s get a move on.”