Vassal by Sterling D'Este (reading books for 7 year olds .txt) 📗

“Ugh!” She tossed the last piece of wretched clothing aside and stood, face tilted up to the perfect sun. A friend. A lover at times.

Her rays frolicked over her skin, across her breasts and navel and between her thighs. Everywhere it touched, she felt her body come alive.

For the first time in three hundred years, she was alive. Awake.

Whole.

A triumphant cry left her lips, and she lifted her hands, fisted, to the sky.

Enyo was free.

✶

Etienne sprinted back through the village in the direction they had come, both packs bouncing against his back. She wasn’t in any of the shops. She wasn’t between or behind them or gazing, slack-jawed at some cut of meat.

She was entirely gone.

Near the village gate, a couple of sweat-stained men stood smoking, a moment of calm after what looked to have been a difficult day. Etienne didn’t so much as call out a greeting, instead skidding to a halt before them like a madman.

“My sister,” he panted, gripping a fistful of hair. “Have you seen her? A girl this high, wearing a veil?”

One of them clapped him on the shoulder roughly. “Not to worry, friend, she’s probably found herself some working man for a tumble!” He guffawed at his own poor joke, spraying the air before himself with spittle.

The other man just shook his head. “Give ‘em a break, Colin. You can’t say that about a man’s sister. Besides, we saw a girl like that headin’ out the village but half a sun length ago.”

That was enough for Etienne. He was off again, tearing out of the village after her. He was so focused on getting to her as fast as possible that he almost missed the boot lying forlornly to the west side of the road. Beyond it, there was a copse of trees, a beacon in the otherwise cleared countryside.

Etienne scooped up the boot and headed towards it, stopping only to collect its mate a little farther along. He found the first stocking a few hundred yards into the wood, stuffing it quickly into the boot. He wasn’t anywhere near as rigid as Alphonse when it came to propriety, but it still felt a bit indecent to hold onto them any longer than necessary.

The next stocking lay on the edge of a meadow.

It would have been idyllic under other circumstances, but as it was, Etienne paid little attention to the wildflowers. “Alphonse?” His voice was laced with panic. “Are you there?”

When he saw her, he froze.

She was entirely naked, her skin bare from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head, and it shocked him so much that for a moment, Etienne didn’t react.

Then, he dropped the boots and slapped his hand over his eyes. “Alphonse, please put your things back on.”

❂

A foreign voice floated back on the gay winds, and Enyo turned to see who had come. Who would join her in the meadow of flowers and sunlight and breezes? Of spring.

A male. The male. The one who had released her.

She smiled broadly, showing all of her teeth, and stalked closer to him, holding one delicate hand out towards him, gesturing for him to approach. He needn’t be afraid, needn’t hide his gaze in deference.

Today she was feeling merciful.

Today it was spring.

A welcoming, happy noise came out of her throat. It was difficult to remember speech. It’d been so very long since she spoke. How did she make her tongue form the words? How did her lips shape the sounds?

It didn’t matter. She hadn’t ever needed words to convey her meaning.

She stepped closer, looking the male over with obvious interest. Those amber eyes looked like flames shimmering over coals. Hand still outstretched towards him. He need only take it.

✶

Etienne gingerly peeked from beneath his hands at the sound Alphonse made. She seemed… happy? So far, in all his encounters with the shadow, it had been, at best, hungry. Never happy.

When he looked again, however, it most certainly wasn’t Alphonse standing in front of him. The thing staring out of her eyes looked him up and down, alien and predatory, and held out her hand.

Etienne focused his gaze resolutely on the very top of her head because, damn him, she was very difficult not to look at. But this was his dearest friend, his sister. And what was worse, she wasn’t even really there.

“No,” he told the creature. “That is Alphonse’s body, and you cannot just do whatever you want with it.”

He knew he was going red. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. But that didn’t matter. He was utterly resolved.

The creature’s smile became a storm-cloud frown, the trees around them seeming to tremble. The change was sudden, terrifying. Alphonse would never have glared at him so. She stalked closer, reaching to take his hand, yanking it away from his body.

Etienne struggled to pull his hand back, but somehow, even in Alphonse’s small frame, it far outstripped his strength. He could do little but watch in some mixture of fascination and alarm as she pressed the pads of his fingers against the delicate skin of Alphonse’s cheek, the swell of her lips. In her throat, he could feel the pulse of her heart as though barely contained.

Gods, how much of this could he be expected to endure?

For a moment, Etienne’s steadfastness wavered. His mind traveled down the possibility of giving in to the creature’s desire.

She was beautiful. He did not have to have seen the bodies of others to know that hers was perfect.

He imagined reaching out, touching her skin out of choice rather than the creature’s command, of allowing her whatever desire she asked of him.

And if Alphonse woke?

Etienne retched physically, unable to control the revulsion he felt at the thought. She was his fucking sister in all but name.

With all of the strength available to him, Etienne flung his weight back and pulled.

❂

Her grip didn’t loosen, but she understood the denial there. She stalked after him as he