Blood of the Moon

by S D Simper

  “Technically speaking . . .” Even in the warm water, Flowridia felt thick wetness between her legs. She winked and said, “I haven’t actually come yet.”

  Lara chuckled and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on Flowridia’s lips. “May I wash your hair?” she whispered, her pale eyes conveying warmth.

  An intimate gesture, and Flowridia simply nodded, surprised at the offer. She watched, expression blank, as Lara poured some sweet smelling substance into her hands and massaged Flowridia’s scalp, bringing their faces closer and planting butterfly kisses along her cheeks and nose.

  Intimate, innocent, and so unlike anything Flowridia could say she had experienced. Making love to Ayla had been riding a hurricane, tumultuous and wild, but the eye of the swirling storm brought peace from the chaos, precious moments to which Flowridia had clung and still never let go.

  Lara’s sweet kisses stirred affection within her, but with it came the guilt of insincerity. Ayla’s bleeding heart had been stolen, desperately patched by Flowridia’s tender care, while Lara’s open heart came freely offered and with no strings.

  Water rinsed the soap from Flowridia’s hair, the bubbles pooling around their slick bodies. Lips brushed her temple. A soft voice whispered into her ear. “Let me take you to bed.”

  Flowridia nodded as Lara left the bathtub and stole a fluffy towel from a shelf. She beckoned for her to follow, wrapping Flowridia in one before taking another towel for herself. “If I may admit to something embarrassing,” Lara continued, sopping water from her soft skin, “since returning from the wedding, I’ve been researching how to make love to women, as a woman . . .”

  She trailed off at Flowridia’s laughter—amusing, to think of the most powerful woman in the world as insecure. “You had intentions for me, then?” Flowridia said, yet uneasiness brewed within her, the rush of touching Lara’s body fading, despite her own simmering arousal.

  “My point,” Lara replied, her happiness radiant, but not enough to break through the clouds surrounding Flowridia’s heart, “is that I’m curious to try what I’ve learned. I’ve made love to men before, but they tend to take charge and do most of the work.”

  Flowridia bit back her next words—the natural and honest reply that she’d been fortunate enough to have a good teacher—but they burned to swallow, and when she blinked, she felt tears. Though she quickly pressed her face into her towel, she heard Lara say, “Are you all right?”

  She steeled her breath, willing her emotions to settle, and forced a grin as she brought the towel to her hair instead. “Yes. Would you think less of me if I said I was impatient?”

  Lara giggled as she came to kiss Flowridia’s lips, easily able to level their faces if she stood on her toes. “Come to bed,” she whispered, her hand settling at Flowridia’s waist.

  Flowridia dropped her towel, following as Lara escorted them to the moon-lit room, the parted curtains casting a silver sheen onto the bed.

  Like a dream, it beckoned, the ambience romantic beyond anything she had ever known. Lara led her to bed; Flowridia’s hair dripping onto the plush carpet, and rich fabric enveloped her as she sat at the edge of the mattress. Lara’s lips brushed her jaw, her cheek, and finally her lips. Curiously, her warm hands touched Flowridia’s skin, sliding from her slim waist to the gentle curves of her breasts, hesitant as they lingered at the sides. “May I?” Lara whispered, anticipation in her voice.

  Say yes, say yes, her wicked mind said, and it sounded like Mother, who loved nothing more than to fuck men to kill them. Flowridia had touched Lara, had moved within her minutes ago, but there was little vulnerability in domination.

  “Flowridia?”

  Flowridia opened her eyes, realized Lara’s lips ghosted inches away from hers, but instead of silver, those eyes refracted the blue of the blankets. For an impossible, crippling moment, the face she saw was not beautiful, but fierce.

  Yet the touch was warm, the gaze was soft, and before her was Lara—beautiful Lara who bore every fine trait of her angelic blood—and Flowridia fell apart.

  She did not quite break, no, but instead she made a careful withdrawal, taking her hands back before covering her face. Tears welled in her eyes. Trembling, her breathing grew ragged; her hands slid up to grip her hair.

  The labyrinth of Flowridia’s mind hid brutal betrayal behind every twist and turn. Lara’s heart lie waiting to be staked, yet her own already felt shredded into ribbons.

  The empress wrapped both arms around her in a tight embrace. “Lara—” Flowridia choked trying to hold back a sob, but succeeded, forcing a smile as she met Lara’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I was—”

  “Shh . . .” Kindness shone in Lara’s pale eyes. Gentle fingers stroked at Flowridia’s hair. She kissed a falling tear, as tender a gesture as Flowridia had ever known.

  Something shattered. Her tears fell fast; quiet sobs shook her. Flowridia buried her face into her hands.

  Lara held her close, tenderly stroking her hair. “Did I hurt you? Was I too much?”

  The guilt in her voice at least gave Flowridia the resolve to shake her head. A kiss against her temple, and finally she managed to suck in a breath. In, out, in, out . . .

  “Her name was Ayla, wasn’t it?”

  The question startled her, a slight gasp escaping her throat. Flowridia turned to face Lara, staring a moment before finding her voice, rough as it was. “Yes.”

  “I didn’t want to accuse you, Flowridia. But is that her ear you’re still carrying with you?”

  “Yes,” Flowridia whispered, heat rising in her cheeks. “I didn’t know you knew about it.”

  The hand stroking her hair soothed down to touch her cheek. “Etolié tells me many things.”

  Flowridia sniffed, blinking heavily as she nodded. “I know I should be past this, but—”

  “Stop,” Lara gently implored. “Flowridia, it’s been months since my father’s death, and I still cry myself to sleep sometimes. The difference is, while I may be alone, no one would besmirch me the right to mourn him. But here you are, hiding your broken heart from the world.”

  A slow nod became her reply. Anything else she might say could be damning or break her shaken resolve.

  “I’ve heard terribly unkind things about the woman you loved, but there must have been something wonderful about her, if she stole your heart. Will you tell me about her?”

  Flowridia’s eyes widened, a question in the gaze.

  “If I am to know your heart, Flowridia, I would hear about the woman who holds it,” Lara said, and her tone held only sincerity.

  What to even say? Ayla was a creature of darkness yet held all the magnitude of the sun, and Flowridia would have followed her blindly to the end, content to burn in her great light. And Ayla had tried—by every god, Ayla had wanted nothing more than to ruin her—but instead she had fallen in love, their stars orbiting in tandem.

  Ayla’s star had burst, a supernova and then darkness, yet Flowridia still circled, waiting to be consumed by a black hole.

  So what did one say about Ayla? Flowridia supposed she could only speak the truth. “I think I loved her the moment I saw her,” she began with some uncertainty. “She stole every eye in the room, though I think mostly from fear. But I watched her dance, and I thought she was magnificent. And she truly was—she was magnificent and prideful and terrifying.” Flowridia recalled The Endless Night, the bloodstained night wherein the Skalmites had fallen. Ayla had held no remorse; for nearly two thousand years, she had held no remorse for any act, save one. “But beneath her airs, there was something beautiful.”

  “I love you, Flowridia. Please, never leave me.”

  “She didn’t mean to fall in love with me,” Flowridia admitted, the words coming more easily. “And that hurts to say out loud, but it’s the truth. Her love . . .” She sniffed, wiping a tear before Lara could. “It was so pure. She was a monster, unquestionably—after her death, I learned what sort of creature she truly was. And it hurt. Oh, it still hurts, Lara,
but . . .” She shut her eyes, tears falling fast now. “But she loved so tentatively, so beautifully. Casvir told me I had tamed a monster, that Ayla’s love for me was the only redeeming quality he ever knew in her. If I were sane, that might be enough to push me to move on.”

  When Flowridia opened her eyes again, she faced a mirror. Lara’s gaze spelled trust and love, so blindly, freely given. That innocence reminded her of a time past, when she herself could love so fiercely.

  Did that mean Flowridia had become the monster?

  “Flowridia,” Lara whispered, her tone as fragile as a drop of dew dangling from grass, “you must understand, since my father’s death, I have been so alone.” The statement rang a moment in silence, poignant and loud in Flowridia’s mind. “I’d never considered a future with a woman, but then I saw you in the garden and it was as though we were fated to meet. And when you kissed me at the wedding . . .” A sad smile graced her lips, her own eyes brimming with tears. “Flowridia, it made my heart sing. I’m absolutely smitten by you.”

  She watched carefully as Lara lowered her hand away from Flowridia’s face and let it wrap around the other side of her torso, completing the embrace.

  “You aren’t ready,” Lara whispered. “You don’t have to tell me that. You carry a heavy burden, that token of hers. You haven’t let her go.”

  Flowridia couldn’t bear to disagree. She simply nodded.

  “Let me help you.” Lara rested her head on Flowridia’s shoulder. “The world won’t let you mourn, but if I can ease the weight, please let me. When you’re ready—if you even ever are ready—I’ll be here, but in the meantime, you needn’t be alone in your loneliness. I think you need a friend.”

  That bleeding heart, so freely offered, no strings beyond the ones Flowridia attached to make Lara dance at her command. A shadow passed over her resolve, one with the damning name of doubt.

  Her eyes squeezed shut, fresh tears falling, and a sob tore from her throat. Lara held her tight as she cried, and Flowridia clung back.

  Forever discontent. Odessa would mock her. Izthuni might smite her. Even Casvir would berate her indecision. She’d murdered for this—and yet here she stood, stopped at the finish line.

  Lara’s voice soothed her troubled mind. “I know it’s an intimate gesture,” she said softly, “but would you like me to sleep by you tonight?”

  Flowridia managed a nod.

  They dressed in their nightgowns. Flowridia lingered at her bag, clutching the ear a moment in her hand, uncertainty in the gesture. Lara had called it a burden. It was, though one Flowridia had freely accepted, one she carried on her own accord.

  And like a dagger to her chest, the thought lingered that she could let it go.

  Soon, buried in the sheets, she rested her head against Lara’s chest, desperate for the offered affection.

  Her beating heart met Flowridia’s ears. She memorized the sound, knowing how precious a thing it was, so fleeting. Each beat counted down to the moment where Flowridia would draw the knife and stab it.

  * * *

  In the morning, Flowridia awoke facing closed curtains and an empty bed. She rolled over, surprised to see Demitri curled up on the floor, fast asleep.

  What time was it? Flowridia sat up, set on opening the windows, when she noticed a note placed on the empty pillow. She grabbed it, eyes quickly roaming the meticulous script:

  I’m sorry to leave you alone, but I know how much you needed sleep. Breakfast is past, and I have meetings through the morning, but meet me for lunch. Your company would be a perfect distraction from the monotony of my day.

  -Lara

  Simply ‘Lara.’ No titles or damning surnames; only ‘Lara,’ stripped of finery, laid bare like the body Flowridia had touched.

  She stood and approached the window, peeking through the blackened fabric only to be met with bright daylight. The sun sat high, nearing noon, and Flowridia knew lunch would be soon.

  Rather than disturb Demitri, she returned to the bathroom. Lara’s clothing lay missing from the mess of her own—Flowridia’s shirt crumpled in the corner, her skirt and belt pooled by the tub.

  When she returned to the room, she knelt before her bag. She first withdrew sweet Ana, who came to life at her touch. “You’re free to explore, but don’t bother Demitri. Stay in this room.” She released the little creature, smiling at how she investigated her world.

  With Ana taken care of, Flowridia lifted the ear lovingly into her hands. She placed the chain around her neck, wondering when her chest would finally cave from the familiar weight.

  Kneeling, she pulled the bag fully open and peered inside, immediately struck by the muted light of the orb. What would Lara think, to know she’d stolen it to get here?

  She recalled Etolié’s reaction through the now-shattered mirror. Perhaps Lara already knew, but Flowridia decided to keep the news to herself, for now.

  She’d brought little clothing, having left most of it in the swamp. She donned one of Ayla’s gifted gowns—one of her favorites, deep blue and embroidered in silver stars. Lacking flowers, she simply tamed her hair and pinned it away from her face.

  Flowridia knelt before Demitri, knowing the wolf needed rest. Instead of waking him, she placed a kiss on his nose.

  Once in the hallway, she realized she was unquestionably lost. She chose a direction and walked, hoping to find a servant or guard to guide her.

  She did not have to wait long. A servant woman, holding laundry, pointed her toward the lift. “The throne room is only a floor up. I would look for her majesty there.”

  Still not entirely sure of where Lara might be, Flowridia rode the lift, which came to life in her presence. With an idle thought to find the throne room, it obeyed, and she watched the kingdom beyond the window as she ascended. She came upon a foyer with two enormous doors looming at the end of an expansive hallway, guards standing on either side.

  Flowridia would bet a considerable amount of Casvir’s money that the throne room lay that direction.

  As she approached, the doors opened on their own. Lara, her hair styled and her dress impeccable, stepped out. Surrounded by regally dressed individuals—her own royal council; Flowridia swore she recognized a few from Marielle’s wedding—she spoke rapidly until her gaze fell to Flowridia. Certainly everyone, Flowridia included, could see how her eyes brightened, how her smile beamed.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Lara said, “I am having a personal guest for lunch.” She stepped forward, as quickly as could be considered proper, and took Flowridia’s hands in her own, oblivious or uncaring at how they watched her. “I know you wanted your visit to be kept secret. I’ve told no one of your name, only that you’re my guest. And if they recognize you from the wedding, what harm can they do? The visit is on no records.” She squeezed Flowridia’s hands before gently releasing them. “Are you hungry? Lunch awaits if you want it.”

  “I’m starved, to be honest.”

  Lara placed a hand on Flowridia’s back as she led her to the lift. “There’s a balcony a few floors down, and I think you’ll love the view. Lunch will be delivered there.”

  Down they went. Once stopped, Lara escorted them quickly down the winding, windowless hall, until a door to the side opened at their approach.

  They faced the outdoors. Flowridia saw the city but also the majestic lake beyond. A slight breeze cooled the air, and a table and two chairs were already set up.

  “It’s beautiful,” Flowridia said, as Lara pulled out her chair, oddly charmed to be doted upon. “Your entire kingdom is stunning.”

  Lara beamed at the sentiment. “I’ll give you a tour, if you’d like. Before I was crowned empress, I would often take trips into the city and visit my subjects.” Her expression fell slightly, and she stared out into the horizon. “I’ve isolated myself somewhat, in mourning my father’s death.”

  Lara’s hand rested on the table. With slight movements, Flowridia set her own on top.

  “Warm her heart. Cherish it. Kiss her
as you slit her pretty throat.”

  Lara’s smile returned. “Do you recall the Skalmites? And the crystal you found?”

  Flowridia nodded.

  “My castle has been housing it. We’ve designated an entire underground sector as a haven for the displaced Skalmites. With study, we’ve learned to control the radius—it’s not a perfect solution, but they’re safe until we can find a better one.”

  “That’s wonderful—”

  On the table, glittering sheen radiated, and then two platters appeared. Startled, Flowridia withdrew her hand, but Lara simply chuckled. “You have a lot to get used to. These were sent from the kitchen.”

  She lifted the cover from her plate, revealing an array of fresh vegetables and some sort of decadently roasted meat. Flowridia lifted her own and saw the same. With the accompanied silverware, she pushed the meat to the side, preventing it from touching the greenery.

  She wiped her fork on her napkin and happily picked at the vegetables, ignoring Lara’s curious stare. Flowridia chewed slowly, despite the ravenous hunger growing in her stomach.

  “Forgive me for ignoring pleasantries,” Lara said, “but I know you’re here for a purpose other than to see me.”

  Right. Flowridia had nearly forgotten. “I found an orb, but I need your help.” Lara’s surprise was made apparent in the slight ‘o’ of her mouth, and Flowridia admittedly found it charming. “I attempted to go after it myself, but the swamp it lies in is heavily warded, too much for only me to break through. But with your talents, you could absorb them. Taking the orb would be trivial.”

  Lara frowned, barely picking at her food. Flowridia took the opportunity to shovel vegetables into her mouth. “Who warded the area?”

  Flowridia finally swallowed and spoke. “I grew up in Ilunnes, the village beside the swamp, and heard stories of an evil witch who once resided there. No one has heard from her in years, but her wards were legendary. No one ever found her; not if she didn’t want to be found. She’s dead, but her wards live on without her.”