The Daughter of Idet: Knights of Vallor, #4

By Ash Gray

Having been captured by Prince Amer's men, Salia and the knights of Vallor escape into the Mistmoor forest, where they raise little Moirin in secret while planning thier eventaul escape to the Far Shore. As Moirin grows supernaturally fast, Fara and Kamryn fumble through "fathering" her, while Salia watches on and worries that her daughter will one day have to leave her to train her magick. Don't miss the fourth installment of this lesbian harem romance series!

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A second later, and the tent flap was ripped aside to reveal Salia, who stood silhouetted against the sunlight. Her golden hair was a tousled mess, and one of the sleeves of her gown had been ripped down, revealing the soft skin of her arm. She was holding a sword in one hand, and the blade was glistening red. Moirin peered around her mother's skirts at the twins, looking oddly calm given everything that was happening.  

One of the men scowled. "What is happening, woman?" he demanded of Salia. "Is the camp under attack?" 

"Yes," said Salia darkly.  

"By who?" demanded the other guard. 

"By me," Salia answered and hurled the sword. It whistled through the air, spinning around and taking the heads of both men off – muting their cries of shock – before spinning back to Salia, who caught it expertly and returned to fight stance.  

Kamryn and Fara had stiffened under the splash of blood, and now they knelt in awe of Salia, mouths open.  

 

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"Then it's settled," said Salia haughtily. "Kamryn, you are in charge of Moirin's education regarding human history, and Fara, you are in charge of Moirin's education regarding elven history."  

"Yes, my princess," chorused Kamryn and Fara, though Kamryn spoke the words unenthusiastically: she hated lessons and had never fancied herself a tutor. She hadn't the patience to learn let alone teach. 

"And what shall you teach me, Mother?" Moirin asked eagerly. 

"I shall teach you the history of our great house," said Salia, proudly lifting her chin. "You are the last in a long line of many great women!"   

Hearing Salia's words, Moirin's eyes practically glowed with wonder, and Kamryn thought she seemed excited about the prospect of learning about the world. The poor child didn't know what school actually was. It was little more than endless writing and reading and listening to long, boring lectures in dark, musty rooms lit by candlelight. Salia had just commanded them all to enter the gates of Hell, and Moirin was soon to learn the truth after innocently skipping inside. Then again, perhaps Moirin, being the child of a death goddess, wouldn't mind schooling either. She enjoyed watching people get beheaded, after all.  

 

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They found a rickshaw to carry them that was pulled by a centaur. Moirin had never before seen a centaur and gawped at the half-woman with her mouth open. The centaur was wearing a golden breastplate over her breasts, but her midriff was bare, and they could see where her soft skin ended and the tawny golden fur began as it smoothed into her lower half. She had wild golden hair and bright, fierce eyes, and she looked at them with cold indifference, unsmiling as they approached. Her arms were quite muscular from pulling the rickshaw. 

"Five crowns for the lot of you, no more, no less," the centaur roughly said before they'd opened their mouths. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ash Gray
• Release date: May 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215976777

Ash Gray

Ash Gray is a lesbian living in California. She writes lesfic (aka fiction for lesbians) in science fiction, fantasy, and paranormal settings.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Salia stood in Prince Amer's tent, silently marveling that the last two-and-one-half days had been complete chaos. First, she was captured by ruffians, then the orcs in Toadfen, then she died and met Death, then she was pregnant, and now she was standing there, once more in a green gown – for Amer would not allow her trousers – and with her toddler-sized daughter clinging to her skirts.

Salia was standing before Prince Amer, who sat in a chair with his hands folded and seemed to be contemplating the same thing as he looked at her: no doubt when he hired the ruffians to kidnap Salia, he had expected her to run away, that he would never hear from her again. He didn’t look at all pleased that his knights had found her and was baffled by the series of bizarre events she had shared with him. Salia wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d written her off as mad, but he – thankfully—seemed to believe her that all of it had happened.

Prince Amer wore a dark leather jerkin, trousers, and fine boots, as around his shoulders hung a magnificent fur cloak. His black hair was smoothed behind his shoulders in a long ponytail, and gold rings with large jewels gleamed on his fingers as he touched one pensive finger to his lips and stared at Salia. His eyes kept going back and forth between her and Moirin, who stared at him around Salia’s skirts with pouting dislike.

They had been in Prince Amer’s camp for little more than a day, and already, Moirin was the size of a three-year-old. She was growing rapidly, and though she looked a great deal like Salia, it was hard for Prince Amer to accept that Moirin was indeed hers.

Salia had explained everything—from the Broin sisters’ rescue, to the goddess Idet and Eryet’s fountain – but Prince Amer was still sitting there in contemplation.

I have no idea what madness you have steeped thyself in, Salia, said Amer at last, wearily pinching the flesh between his eyes. I only know I want no part in it. Your mother hath given me permission to wed Kathon in your stead, but only if you are never found. So I shall help you flee our marriage, and in return, you are never to set foot in Paleia or Vallor again.

Salia stiffened in surprise. It was hard to believe what she’d just heard. Wait. . . You shall aid me in fleeing?

Immediately, if you like. Your mother summoned me to aid in the search for you. It’s why I am camped near Anstone. But say the word and I will send thee hence. Why should the two of us be miserable when the solution is so simple?

We could have done this before, said Salia darkly, rather than you hiring ruffians to kidnap and murder me!

Prince Amer’s brows creased in a slight frown, and Salia thought he appeared hurt by her words.  You wound me, Salia. Those ‘ruffians’ as you call them were mere peasants I hired to play a role. They were given strict orders not to harm you, to allow you to escape.

Salia stared at the prince in horror. And the Broin sisters slew them unaware! They are dead now because of you! She boiled with anger when the prince shrugged nonchalantly.

"They were peasants, Salia. They were of little consequence," he said calmly.

Salia’s mouth dropped open, and her face was twisted in disgust. Now I do recall why I was so desperate to flee the court! Arrogant and cold, the lot of you!

The prince shrugged again, unfazed.

So you shall send me any place I please? said Salia suspiciously.

"Within reason, of course, said the prince with a weak laugh. I shant send you to the blasted Far Shore, if that’s what you’re proposing."

Salia silently cursed. That was exactly what she’d been proposing. Why the hell not? she demanded and instantly hated how much she sounded like a spoilt brat. She was consciously aware of Moirin listening keenly and learning from her behavior, and she did not want to set a bad example.

Prince Amer, with great disapproval, interlocked his fingers in his lap and lifted his brows, staring at Salia as if to say her manners were appalling.

Taking a breath to control her anger, Salia lifted her chin and repeated politely, I mean, where else would you send me? There is no where else I could hide!

I could send you with an escort to Cattora, said the prince, examining his nails.

Salia paused. That wasn’t a terrible idea. Cattora was the land of magick and secrets, and Moirin being the child of a goddess, would likely grow into a sorceress. Who better to teach her than the women of that land? Moirin could learn to hone her skills and become one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world. She could learn to defend herself should Idet attempt to collect her.

Of course, went on Amer, who was frowning now as he cleaned his nails with the tip of an ornate, gold-handled dagger (Ghastly! Salia thought), I would have to send you with hired mercenaries and not my own men. I can’t be seen to aid you publicly, as you well know, and my help, as with everything, comes with a price. He lifted his eyes to Salia’s face as he tucked the dagger away in his belt.

Salia frowned, taken aback. "What sort of price? Your family is wealthier than mine, even if I did have access to the vault in Cawic, and I already agreed to disappear and never show my face in Vallor or Paleia again. Surely, those terms are enough?"

They are not, said Amer and frowned irritably. "I haven’t forgotten how you head-butted me in the face, sweet Salia." He spoke the last two words through his teeth, his eyes biting.

Salia held back a smile, remembering: at the ball in Breestone, she had been disgusted by Amer’s vile comments about her breasts and had smashed her forehead quite unapologetically into his before turning and gliding serenely away, leaving him out cold on his back as the dancers halted in shock around him. The prince’s humiliation had gone on for years, for all of Vallor and Paleia couldn’t contain their mirth, and several bards were punished by Amer’s family for singing ballads that mocked him. The bard Fyda had been banished from Paleia altogether, never to return, for performing a seven-part ballad about Prince Amer’s large forehead and the equally large dent Salia had given him.

What could you possibly want from me? Salia asked, sincerely baffled.

Prince Amer smirked, and his eyes lingered on Salia’s breasts, which were