After clearing my head, I rejoined Orsa. We went for several more rounds, again with my mental acuity enhancement active but nothing else. There were no more accidental intimate situations between us. After the break, Orsa had transformed to all business. She had become more detached and cold, clinical almost. Feeling guilty, I wanted to clear the air as we finished up for the morning.
“Orsa,” I said, calling after her as she was about to walk away from the practice ring. She turned to look at me, eyebrows raised in anticipation of some question related to our training. I walked up to her and grabbed her hand; she turned more to me, fully opening herself to a conversation now.
“Orsa, I’m… about before—”
“No, Signor Wright, I should—”
“Don’t!” I said sternly, interrupting her. I could tell the change in my demeanor caught her off guard. I took a deep breath. “I just need time. You, Fiametta, the principessa,” I trailed off, my eyes going to the ground as I rubbed my thumb along the back of her fingers.
In.
Out.
I looked back up at her and met her gaze. I could see surprise there. Surprised that I was being direct, maybe, but I couldn’t be sure.
“I know,” I said.
“I go to bed, and I know. I wake up, and I know. I just need time.” As the last word left my mouth, I pulled the hand I was holding up to my mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers. “Thank you for your interest. And the training. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
I turned to leave, but a strong hand shot out, grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me into a tight embrace. No words were exchanged, but her mana sang of her regret, her understanding, her desire to protect and nurture, and of course a deep and needy hunger that I chose to ignore. I returned the hug, and she rubbed small comforting circles on my back. After a moment, I released the embrace and she followed suit so we could separate.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“Tomorrow,” she echoed.
I turned around and walked towards the grand hall of the estate. I could feel her eyes on me, and I could still hear her mana sing. It took every bit of my focus to hold my head high and tell the world that all was good. All was right.
And I’m definitely not barely keeping my shit together as I walk back to my room. Nope, not at all.
I managed to make it back to my room without running into anyone—not that that was common. I grabbed a change of clothes, and headed for the showers. The shower was simultaneously exactly what I needed and nowhere close to satisfying the ache. The close contact with Orsa, the moment shared with her, and the words that followed; it all added to a discrete weight. My heart demon was gone, sure, but there was still heartache. And survival tinged with obligation.
Less than two months left before I have to entertain suitors.
Such an alien feeling and an unwelcome one. Two months was no time at all, and these people expected me to move on and choose a new wife like some…
Like a breeding stud.
But at the same time, I have people looking out for me. People willing to protect me, as galling as that is. Ippolita, Fiametta, and Orsa, all three were understanding, and they all wanted me to find happiness. Though, it’s obvious they want that happiness to be in their bedrooms.
Don’t think like that; that’s not fair to them.
I pinched the bridge of my nose between my eyes.
They’re good people, Jack. Besides, before Stephanie, how many times did you lust after every moderately attractive woman that crossed your path. This is no different.
But it is different. I made a vow to myself, to Stephanie, that next time, I wouldn’t be too slow, next time I wouldn’t be too weak, next time I wouldn’t be too… me. I’d be better.
Am I really worthy of being someone’s partner if I can’t pull my weight? They clearly don’t need protection, but won’t I just be a liability right now?
With these heavy and troubling thoughts as company, I pushed open the door to my room and ate my lunch.
Despite my inner turmoil, Filippa’s dance lessons came and went without incident. Though, she did mention a new dance that she might teach me if we have time. It was called the Tangle, Tango, or Tangy. I couldn’t remember, but it was a new dance that had just come in with a trading caravan today. I was extremely impressed that Filippa had managed to hear about it, let alone learn it, in the space of a single morning, but it was the hot new thing out of Magacitta. With the timing being so close to the ball, it was unlikely enough nobles would know it and be comfortable with it in time. Instead, she had me use the mental acuity enhancement the same as Orsa did, and we practiced the waltz to different songs and to just her playing the music of her mana. It was exhausting but fun in its own way.
Principessa Ippolita elegantly glided into the library as we were finishing. I caught her taking a deep breath and her eyes flashed with something I couldn’t quite make out, but I had my suspicions.
“Your majesty, it is good to see you,” I said.
“Your majesty," said Filippa while bowing.
“Jack, Filippa,” she said, nodding at each of us. “Jack,” she continued, “It’s time for your mana manipulation training.”
“Of course, your majesty.” I turned to Filippa, “Thank you again for today’s lessons, Filippa. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“It is nothing, Signore. I hope you have a fruitful session with her majesty,” she replied, her stone mask slipping just a bit in a quirk of her lips.
I walked towards Principessa Ippolita, thinking she’d turn and lead me to the gardens again, but instead she looped an arm through me and walked by my side.
“How are you adjusting to your new tier of power, carissimo?”
“Surprisingly, it’s been pretty smooth, your majesty,” I said.
“Surprisingly?” she asked.
“Yes, your majesty. The tier up to orange, err, D note took a bit of getting used to. The amount of mana I could freely manipulate saw a large jump.”
“The jump from D to E is larger, though,” she said.
“It is, your majesty, but it’s almost as if…” I trailed off, my thoughts getting too far ahead of my mouth.
“It’s almost as if?” she prompted.
“Sorry, your majesty. I was considering something and it led me down some interesting possibilities. Anyways, I think it’s easier because the mana saturation levels are higher on the surface than in the sky cities.”
Ippolita considered for a moment, then spoke, “That is one factor, yes.”
“Another,” I continued, “is the amount of mana I was manipulating freeform while D note allowed me to get accustomed to controlling more mana than what I would use for my tattoos. Since I don’t have new tattoos yet, the amount of mana I’m using hasn’t changed much, just its quality.”
“Ah, and that is likely the main culprit. But speaking of your tattoos, carissimo,” she said, patting the arm she had hers looped through. I turned to look up at her.
Tall. Like a goddess descended.
She smiled at me and said, “Have you given any thought to what you will be getting for your next two tattoos?”
“I have, your majesty. I think I’ll follow the standard route for warriors and get the Strength and Speed Enhancer as well as the Mental Defenses Enhancer.”
“How about Strength and Speed and then Manablade?”
“Why would I do that?” I asked incredulously. “Erm, your majesty,” I said hurriedly.
She smirked at me, likely finding amusement in my misstep of decorum. “Because, you can simply memorize the resonance pattern for the mental defense spell and do it yourself. If it’s not tattooed on you, then no one will know that you can perform it. Security through obscurity.”
“Won’t that only help if they can see my tattoos up close? Likely after they’ve ensorceled me, your majesty?”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But it’s not as though you’ll be running that enhancement all of your waking hours. You will get blindsided at some point, and on that day, if they see you possess the mental defense spell, they’ll be more wary of you while keeping you captive?”
“Captive, your majesty?”
“Oh yes, carissimo, you’re far too valuable to kill. No, your primary threat is imprisonment in a place I can’t reach. Or married to a woman who would stud you out, I suppose,” she said with the same casual air you might discuss drapes or furniture.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “I understand the surface has population issues, but imprisonment? Studding me out like I’m some prized stallion?” I started.
“That’s just it, Carissimo,” she stopped walking abruptly. We were by a doorway to a room I hadn’t seen before. “You are a prized stallion. In a way, all males are, but you especially.”
Right. Fertility rates.
I hung my head, took a deep breath, then looked back up at her. “Alright, I get it,” I said. “So, no mental defenses for a tattoo. We do a manablade spell instead, and then I learn the resonance pattern for the defenses. Do we need to go out to a tattooist, your majesty?”
Her bell-like laughter echoed down the hallways. “Oh, carissimo, don’t worry. I’ll be doing the tattoo myself. I am a fine artist, and I’ve done many of the tattoos for the royal guards.”
“Of course, your majesty, I would be honored!”
She smiled brightly at my enthusiasm. She led me through the doorway of the room we had stopped in front of, then released my arm. Pointing to a tall high backed chair, she said “Sit there, and face the back of the chair. Your other enhancement tattoos are on your back correct?”
“Yes, your majesty,” I said, sitting down in the chair. It was so high off the ground only the tips of my toes touched. As I settled in, I also noticed the back of the chair wasn’t straight, but at a slight reclining lean to it.
“Good. Now, remove your shirt and lean forward on the back of the chair, I’ll get my inks and tools.” Ippolita whisked past me. I took my shirt off and sent it to the storage ring. I could hear shuffling behind me: the sound of another chair or stool being placed down behind me as well as a table. A pair of thuds and clatters marking the placement of the inkwells and hand tapping tools.
“I’m sure you already know, carissimo, but this will not be pleasant. I’ll try to be swift and gentle, but do not move. Not unless you want me to flay that section of your back off and start over after healing you.”
I swallowed. I’d never flinched before on previous tattoos, but I also had never been told what would happen if I did. Flaying a section of my back sounded like a nightmare. I took a deep breath, and tried to relax.
In.
Out.
“I am ready, your majesty.”
“Yes. You are.” I could hear the smile in her voice. It brought heat to my cheeks, but I focused back on my breathing.
“Your previous three seem to be attempting to form a square, I’ll finish it with the Strength and Speed Enhancement tattoo, and we’ll put the Manablade spell on one of your arms.”
I felt the tingle of magic over the spot she indicated, likely a cleaning spell to make no contaminants join the ink when she tattooed me. I also felt the briefest brush of something soft against the same spot. Almost like a…
Did she just kiss my back? I can feel her residual mana there.
I both felt and heard her gathering the mana in the resonance pattern for the Strength and Speed Enhancement spell. I’d never seen what a tattoo looks like, so I was excited for when she would put the Manablade on my arm since I would get to see the full process.
The razor glided through the flesh of my back like a small corvette airship swimming through the endless sky. There was a sharp bite of pain at first, but I breathed through it, letting it fade into the background. Ippolita deftly cut the intricate pattern of the tattoo, probably following whatever stencil she had for it. Once she finished with the razor, the stylograph came. It traced the intricate incisions made by the razor, infusing my flesh with the shaped and resonant mana.
She finished the final line, withdrew the pen, then placed her hand on my back where the new tattoo was, flaring her mana to seal her work and enabling my mana to access it. She leaned against me, her full chest pressing against my back. I could feel her breath on my ear.
“Good boy, tesoro mio. You didn’t move an inch. Turn around for me so I can get your arm.”
Her voice sent shivers down my spine and straight to my cock. Excitement and lust, shame and guilt. All four washed over me in equal measure.
But how do you tell royalty ‘no’?
She leaned back away from me, allowing me to move in the chair and turn around. Once I was fully around and facing her, I noticed she was standing. I looked up at her, a question forming on my lips—one I wouldn’t get to ask. She moved before the words could come out, straddling me and sitting on my lap. Her green puffy dress pooled around us. I could feel her heat through her undergarments. While this dress was more modest in the bust than the dresses she usually wore, I had a front row seat to her cleavage, and it was doing magical things to my lower half. I felt myself swelling against her.
“Your majesty,” I said hesitantly. I didn’t want to offend her, but I couldn’t sit like this through the next tattoo and be completely still.
“Yes, tesoro mio,” she drawled, the sultry undertones of her voice took me home, to my apartment with Stephanie. A small fire was going in the hearth, giving the apartment a cozy glow. I could smell tea, freshly steeped, on the dining table. The scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and baked apples wafted in from my bedroom, not the usual smell. I turned the corner, expecting to see Stephanie, but there was no one there.
I came back to the present, and I could still smell baked apples and spices. It was Principessa Ippolita. I didn’t have the capacity to dissect what that vision meant. I needed space.
“Your majesty, please, I’d like to watch the tattoo process. I’ve never seen it before, and I won’t be able to see clearly if you sit on my lap.”
Ippolita frowned briefly, and there was a flash of something in her eyes, something I’d never seen before: a promise of violence.
This is why you don’t tell royalty no.
She came back to herself quickly, fast enough that I almost doubted having seen the unspoken threat.
“Of course, carissimo. I seemed to have let my baser urges get the best of me.” She moved to dismount off my lap, but did it in such a way that she dragged her heat against my length. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from leaning into it. She sat back down on her stool and held out her left hand. I offered her my arm, and she pulled me a little closer, but a much more respectful distance than before.
“Do you know how the tattoo process works, carissimo?” she asked.
“Not in its entirety, your majesty. I know you weave the pattern and resonate the mana of the spell and place it into the pattern carved into the flesh, but beyond that,” I said and finished my sentence with a shrug.
“There isn’t much more to it than that, but if you’ve never seen it done before, it is indeed a spectacle. Watch closely.”
She still held my arm with her left hand, while her right hand had the razor—or what I had always assumed was a razor. It was a handle with a small thin black blade. Floating just above her left shoulder was the stylograph. She was manipulating it with her mana. She maneuvered the stylograph around in a dizzying pattern while also vibrating it at alternating frequencies. Mana infused ink spilled forth from the tip, painting a ribbon with glyphs, runes, and arcane symbols that hovered in the air and pulsed to the rhythm of the stylograph.
“That is the core of the spell,” said Ippolita. “Next is carving out its casing.” She gave me a gentle smile and positioned the blade above my arm.
“You don’t use a stencil for this part?” I asked.
“Oh, carissimo, no. I am an old hand at this. Now, stay still for your Principessa,” her voice dropped down to that sultry tone again, the resonance of it sending electricity up and down my body.
Just breathe, Jack.
I resumed my well practiced breathing pattern and felt myself drift back into the same trancelike state from the first tattoo. Deftly, Ippolita moved the blade up along my bicep, carving intricate geometric shapes. I watched the blade move up, down, and across, a curve here and a zigzag there, with a certain measure of detachment. I was aware of the knife carving pathways into my flesh—how could I not be, it was fascinating to behold—but it also felt like it was happening to someone else. It was actually easier to stay still when I could see what she was doing rather than the tattoos on my back.
When she finished connecting the final line in the center, she withdrew the knife and used her mana to fly the stylograph over to my armor, the glowing purple ribbon of mana infused ink trailing behind it. This was the part I was most excited to see. I focused intently as the stylograph’s tip entered the bloody corridors in my arm at the exact point she finished the carving, and like watching a recently broken pot hit by the Reverse spell, the stylograph threaded the ribbon through the latticework in my flesh in the reverse order of the knife. It was hypnotizing.
The end, or perhaps beginning, of the ribbon nestled into the pathway, and Ippolita placed her hand over the tattoo, flared her mana, and sealed it. There were rivulets of blood running down my arm. With the tattooing finished, I immediately channeled my regeneration tattoo to close the wound and stop the bleeding. Ippolita sent her tools flying over to a shelf and summoned a cloth from her own storage device. She still held my arm in her left hand and wielded the cloth in her right, preparing to wipe off the fresh blood. She looked into my eyes and slowly pulled my arm up to her mouth. There was a question in her eyes. She was asking permission.
Still adrift in my trance, I let myself fall into the deep red pools, eyes of blood and hunger that all the women around me seemed to have for the second time today. But this time was different. The blood was just going to waste, and I’d offered her before at dinner the other night. This wasn’t necessarily intimate. It would be a waste.
Right?
I nodded, and with my permission, Ippolita dragged her tongue slowly from the palm of my hand, up my forearm, into the crook of my elbow, along my bicep, and stopped at my shoulder, where she left a featherlight kiss infused with mana.
“Thank you, Jack, tesoro mio,” she whispered so quietly, I wasn’t sure if I imagined it. Then as if nothing had happened between us, she pulled back and wiped my arm down with the cloth, cleaning up the rest of the blood. She leaned back and smiled at me, “Well done, carissimo. You made it through two tattoos without flinching once. Put your shirt on and follow me to the gardens. We still have many hours of practice ahead of us.”
Ippolita with Ink Ribbon
Ippolita With the finished tattoo