Time's Arrow by Ash Gray

Author:Ash Gray
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: elf, elf romance, humorous fantasy fiction, black protagonist, black female protagonist, woman protagonist, female protagonist, f/f romance, lesbian romance, lesbian fantasy fiction, shapeshifter, time travel, science fantasy, lesfic, dragon, dragons
Publisher: Ash Gray
Published: 2017-02-21T00:00:00+00:00

AFTER THE INCIDENT with Princess Makena, King Enitan wanted Neferre gone and had a tense argument with Verne about it in his tent. Eavesdropping on the argument outside, Neferre got the feeling that Verne was the only person in the camp who could yell at King Enitan. Neferre squatted behind a stack of crates as Verne convinced the king that sending Neferre away would do more harm than good. Neferre was wanted by High Queen Kimaria, and her capture would mean handing sensitive information about their expedition to the elvkarin. Enitan bitterly agreed to allow Neferre to stay but followed up by adding that he would kill Neferre himself if ever she touched his child again. After the king’s threat, Neferre didn’t hear much else, as she was discovered by one of the king’s men and was threatened away from the tent with a bow aimed at her face.

Neferre spent the rest of the evening wandering the camp, unwilling to return to the tent where she’d been recuperating, as she didn’t feel inclined to endure a sound lecture from Verne. Instead, she found a lonely hill with a great rock, and with her arms folded, she set her boot against the rock and observed the king’s camp from on high.

The king of Aanaki had brought an excessive number of men with him to the Ageless Plain, and they formed an enormous company, whose emerald tents stretched far across the ancient battlefield and to the horizon. Smoke piped from multiple fires, pots clanged, and men trudged back and forth in dark armor, carrying spears on shoulders, smoking, huddled over dice, arguing over cards. Horses brayed in the soft twilight and men laughed. The whole place smelled like horse manure and roast chicken.

Tolthe warriors were widely known for cooking chicken and rice stews. Adventurous soldiers added wild plants gathered from the plain, or even bits of rat or squab. Neferre knew that somewhere even now, Helianthus was likely discussing his spider and mushroom stew with some enthusiastic soldier over supper.

“If you weren’t Verne’s one true love,” said a deep, derisive voice, “I might just break your face.”

Neferre glowered. She listened to King Enitan’s ornate boots scrape across the dry earth as he came to her side. He took a breath, and a wreath of harsh smoke slapped the side of her face. She blinked and continued to look nonchalantly over the camp, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her anger.

They stood in silence for a long time. King Enitan continued to smoke, and Neferre knew he was drawing out the tension, trying to intimidate her. “You gonna finish threatening me or what?” she asked calmly.

“My child is very sick.” Enitan took another breath, exhaling more smoke. “Very sick,” he muttered, not looking at Neferre but down at the camp. A cigar was held fast in his slender fingers. “Her sister died of the same illness. Luckily, her older brother is still with us.” He shook his head and tapped off ashes. “It always passes the males.

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