“She doesn’t sound mad,” I said. “So she’s a little shell-shocked from her ordeal. That’s to be expected. And, after what the iron warriors did to her, I’m not surprised that she’d prefer a woman’s company. Maybe…maybe she just needs a little more time,” I suggested.
“Time. Yes, perhaps time is the proper balm for her ills.” Micah considered my words for another moment, then he drew my face to his. “My wise consort,” he murmured, his gentle caresses becoming a bit more urgent. “Truly, your words soothe my mind. Now, let me soothe you.”
I bit my lip; I’d taken my last contraband Mundane birth control pill yesterday. Since I couldn’t exactly tell Micah that, mostly because I’d never told him about them in the first place, I let him roll me beneath him and concentrated on loving him.
5
Micah had learned pretty early on in our relationship that I was liable to say anything at any moment, regardless of present company or future consequences. Much to my well-mannered consort’s chagrin, he had witnessed me unintentionally insult everyone from Shep right on up to Old Stoney, though neither of us had really minded pissing off the old rock. Shep, though, that was another story; all I had said was that the stairs weren’t as shiny as the main floors, and Shep took that as an insult against his housekeeping skills. I hadn’t meant anything like that—in fact, I liked that the stairs were a bit duller, especially for those occasions when I was wearing a dress—and I’d felt so guilty I’d ended up helping clean the manor for weeks. However, what I asked Micah the morning after my trip to the village with Max surprised even me.
“Can you teach me to fight?” By the time I’d gotten up the nerve to ask that, we’d been up for almost an hour, lounging away in bed. Micah hated mornings nearly as much as I did.
“Fight?” he repeated, one silver brow halfway up his forehead.
“Yeah. With a sword,” I added. For the past few weeks, Micah had been offering me and Sadie instruction on how to better utilize our power over metal. He had also offered his services to Max, who had snorted and stomped out of the room. Nothing like being an ungrateful ass to the man who fed and housed you.
Micah took my hands, examining my knuckles before carefully turning them over. “Have you ever used an edged weapon in the past?” he asked, grazing his thumbs over my palms.
“No,” I admitted, “but I’d like to learn.”
“You are able to halt any foe with your Elemental abilities.”
“But what if something happens, and I can’t use my awesome Elemental powers?” Micah began protesting, but I kept going, “What if I’m out somewhere, without you, without any silverkin to protect me? What if I’m captured and put in a place like Max was, and all that’s nearby is concrete and plastic? Then I’d be helpless.”
Brows now deeply furrowed, Micah mulled this over. “I do not like that my consort may need to fight.”
“Neither does your consort, but if I’m forced to defend myself, I’d at least like to know what I’m doing.” For a few heartbeats Micah just looked at me, and I thought I’d have to appeal to Max for help, or worse, to Shep. Then Micah sprang upward, leaping out of bed as he threw the blankets over my head.
“Your first lesson is to never, ever drop your guard,” he said while I clawed my way to the surface. “Not even in our home, where I personally guarantee your safety. Always remember, love, that a foe’s best hiding place is in plain sight.” Undaunted, I climbed out of bed and affected my best fighter’s stance. Okay, it was a yoga pose, but whatever. I was learning. Amused, Micah dropped into a stance that looked slightly more effective, and we began circling each other.
“Got it. What’s my next lesson?” I’d asked a perfectly reasonable question, and wouldn’t you know it, that elf responded by throwing a silver teacup at my head. Arms flailing, I knocked it away just as Micah tackled me. We landed on the bed in a heap of limbs, the teacup lodged under my back.
“That anything—everything—is a weapon,” he answered. “Never think you are helpless, my Sara. Always use your surroundings to your advantage.”
“What if there’s no tea service nearby?” I yanked the teacup free and tossed it behind my head. “Will a plate do?”
“Certainly,” he murmured. “You have passed your second lesson,” he said, nuzzling my neck. I laughed, as much from the absurdly simple lessons as his ticklish breath.
“Did I pass the first one, too?”