“Ashla,” he whispered. “I have to go.”
She was fully awake in an instant, her head shooting up so she could narrow those eyes of silly insecurity at him. He couldn’t resist reaching out and flicking her on the forehead in punishment.
“Ow,” she pouted, her kiss-swollen lips immediately tempting. She rubbed her forehead though they both knew it hadn’t hurt.
“Stop it,” he scolded softly. “I have to go because the women have returned. If a handmaiden catches me here, there will be Light to pay.”
She looked to the door and the noises outside. She bit her lips and looked back to him. He knew her reluctance to let him go just as he knew his own to leave. He should have exercised more patience, taken her to the royal house and his rooms in the palace. They could have spent hours together alone without a second thought.
“Can’t I come with you?”
That made him smile as bright as light. “Aren’t you tired?” He didn’t want her to walk all that way after he had worn her out so well.
“Yes, of course I am. But I’ll have a second wind by the time we get out of here,” she returned urgently. She rolled off him, scurrying quickly to her clothes, pulling the provocative k’jeet against her bosom.
“No!” He hissed the command as he followed her to the floor where his own things lay. “You are not wearing that outside of Sanctuary.”
The utter surprise on her face must have been pretty funny, because Ashla caught him smothering a chuckle as he quickly began to dress.
“But—”
“Are you going to argue and waste time?” he demanded.
“But I don’t—”
“Arguing,” he pointed out sharply.
She huffed a sigh and hurried to her dresser. She only had three outfits. The one he wouldn’t allow, a handmaiden’s sari, and a bolero and skirt set she thought was much more revealing than the k’jeet. She wasn’t about to run around like a handmaiden, as if she were pretending to be culturally something she wasn’t. She would get enough stares as it was in the belly-baring outfit left as her only choice…
“Fuck it,” she muttered, yanking the thing out and hurrying into it.
“Paj!” he whispered across to her as he shrugged into his shirt.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Paj. The pants you wear under that skirt.”
“I never knew you were such a slave to fashion,” she hissed in irritation. “There is no paj! Are no paj. Whatever!”
She heard him mutter a string of Shadese under his breath she just knew was very uncomplimentary.
“Come on, let’s go.” He gestured her to his side and she hurried to him, flouncing down to her knees beside him in a swish of satin skirts. “Aiya,” he groused as the pale length of her leg appeared up to above her knee. “You save my life only to be the death of me,” he complained before taking hold of her.
“Hey, if you don’t want to be seen with the uncouth white girl, I can keep my ass right here,” she bit out temperamentally.
“That is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said in the time I have known you!” he shot back.
She opened her mouth to give him something in return for that remark, too, but he slapped a hand over her mouth and quickly skipped them out of the room just as the doorknob was turning.
“Ashla?” Karri asked, announcing herself politely before opening the door a bit wider. The room was a shambles, and the handmaiden could swear she had heard arguing. She frowned as she looked around, making sure to check even the darkest corners where someone could hide. Her sensitive senses couldn’t be fooled, though. The room reeked of sex and the dress Ashla had been wearing earlier lay on the floor. The bed was a rumpled mess, an obvious testament to rules being quite broken. Karri smiled a little in amusement. “I guess we kissed and made up.” She chuckled.
She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Chapter 17
Magnus had gotten very little sleep.
He was used to lack of rest and other hardships, especially when he was on a hunt for a Sinner, but this time he was far more weary than usual.
He was disheartened. The increasing understanding that there was a taint in his own house was wreaking havoc on everything he had held perfect confidence in. Oh, he had always known there were personality issues here and there. He was far more aware of Shiloh’s power-grubby attitude than Trace credited him with. However, he had control over those minor issues. Shiloh was pushing for a transfer or demotion, depending on which of Magnus’s nerves he decided to dance on at the last minute. Everything else could be handled with creative care and thinking.
Or so he had thought.
Then they had tried to murder his son.
Magnus’s fists curled tight as he sat on the edge of his bed in tense temper. He didn’t like to be so angry. At heart, he was a man of wisdom and peace. It was why he had so thoroughly supported the regime that now ruled their people. The warrior within him was relegated to whatever was necessary to see religious law obeyed, and appeared only to bring balance in the dire moments of unfairly disadvantaged victims.
He didn’t dislike his warrior’s victories, especially when it saved lives and souls, it was just that he preferred when Darkness guided him to chores of education and guidance, his role as a professor to the young being his favorite. But he did thrive on his supervisory tasks as well. Like a master of chess, he had to manage everyone with precise care if they were to best function and maintain Sanctuary for doing what it was destined to do best. In this way he would protect the young, the beliefs of the law, and the spiritual heart of their nation. It was his true calling, and he had devoted his entire existence to it.
The sound of soft footsteps on cool stone approached him and he drew up a welcoming smile for Karri.
“M’jan? Are you well?” she asked as she moved to kneel on the bed beside him. She had a cup of warm, honeyed frousi juice between her hands and held it out to him.
“Yes, pet, I am well,” he assured her, taking the cup and reaching to rub his thumb over her lightly freckled cheek. Those freckles had always amused him. Her skin was a pretty even mocha color, except those tiny dots of darkness.
She smiled under his affectionate touch and waited quietly while he enjoyed his morning drink. Once he went to put the cup down, though, she spoke. “You slept poorly last night. I wish you had called me in. I could have tried to help.”
“No, no, jei li,” he corrected her, “your herbs and medicines would have done no good for a troubled mind. It was just thoughts, not illness.”
“Well”—she gave him a sly feminine smile as she leaned her warmth against him—“I have more than herbs at my disposal to quiet your mind, M’jan.”
Magnus was surprised by her bold offering out of the blue, and it made him laugh. He studied her a moment, curious as she rubbed her chin against his shoulder. Karri was quite pretty and very provocative in her way, he admitted easily, his eyes running down her body warmly. He had never had issue with her attractiveness. But after knowing her for so long, he was quite aware of how out of step her playfulness was for their routine.
“Of that I have no doubt,” he agreed. He tilted his head and studied her. “But this is not like you. Is all well with you?”
“Quite well,” she assured him.
Then to his unending surprise, she moved to throw a leg over his thighs, hiking up her night dress and exposing herself almost to her sex. She then snaked an arm around his neck and bent to nuzzle her lips against his cheek. Magnus reflexively caught her around her ribs, fruitlessly trying to hold on to her as she slid provocatively against him.
“Let me rest your mind, M’jan,” she invited softly against his ear, the warm rush of her breath seeking out his spine and flooding him with delighted response. He felt heat blooming in his belly, his blood warming to her quickly.
Puzzled as well as becoming aroused, Magnus suddenly turned with her, swinging her onto her back on his bed and
looming over her.
“Karri, why are you playing with me?” he demanded suddenly of her, trying to shake off his unexpected response to the feel of her beneath him. “I have enough on my mind right now without you—”
“This is exactly my point,” she purred as her long, lovely legs suddenly snaked out to wrap around his hips. She drew his big, braw body down onto hers, tightening their intimacy with her lithe strength. “What is the harm in losing yourself from your thoughts for a while? M’jan, you are so hard on yourself. So strict in all you do. It is my duty to urge you to rest and relax. Come and sate yourself, Magnus,” she beckoned temptingly.
Magnus would be damned if that wasn’t the finest idea he’d heard in weeks. The desire to fulfill her request rode through him like a wild herd of mustangs, thundering through his blood and body until he was deafened by it. She was triumphant in her expression just before he swooped down to catch her mouth and kissed her as deeply as his racing pulse could goad him into doing. He was amazed by his own virulent passion, the hardening of his penis a swift and fiery sensation.
A bracing sensation.
Magnus jerked back away from Karri’s eager kiss, a jolt of denial and shock rushing through him. He launched himself off her and away from the bed, stumbling back a little in graceless confusion.
“Drenna, K’yan, what in Light are you thinking?” he demanded of her angrily. What had I been thinking? he wanted to know of himself.
“Why?” she exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. “It’s not as though it is forbidden! Magnus, we are allowed to be with each other.”
“Karri, I’ll not talk of this,” Magnus snapped irritably as he marched away from her. “Damn it, I have enough on my mind without you adding to it!”
“Forgive me,” she said in a small voice behind him. “I was only trying to help.”
That made him stop and turn around to look back at her. He sighed when he saw the despondent little ball she had curled up into by drawing her knees to her chest and clinging to them.
“Aiya,” he sighed, moving back to her and kneeling on the floor in front of her. “Karri, honey, I know you were. You are always trying to help me. It is the very definition of your role by my side. And if I do not say so enough, I am eternally grateful for it. You make my life and my job so very easy and I am proud to have you as my maiden.” He took a deep breath as she loosened her hold on herself a little and let him kiss her forehead in gentle affection. “But this is not like you. The seduction and the sensitivity. It tells me there is something else beneath all of this.”
She shook her head mutely, trying to slide past him but only gaining his hand around her arm and an insistent little shake as he frowned sternly at her.
“No, Magnus. It’s nothing,” she insisted, the telltale biting of her lip saying otherwise. “I was just overthinking, I guess. Really.”
“K’yan,” he scolded gently, “you cannot fool me. You should not even try. Speak to me.”
She sighed heavily, her doe’s eyes looking terribly caught, telling him she was having a struggle of conscience. “Very well,” she relented at last. “I had a conversation with the half-breed girl the other day about sex and the nature of a handmaiden’s and priest’s relationship, and I suppose I was thinking I could do more to make you happy than I had been. Like I said, I was overthinking. Anyway, I upset Ashla with my remarks somehow, and when I went to apologize, I found her room in the dormitories…umm…used.”
“Used?” he echoed suspiciously.
“Yes. I didn’t want to get anyone in any trouble, so I have been agonizing over it for two days. I guess between that conversation with Ashla and coming upon the scene of your son’s sexual congress, it made me obsess a little about sex. I’m sorry.”
“My son?” The bellow of anger belted into the handmaiden and she winced.
“Yes. It was Trace with Ashla, of course.”
“In the women’s dormitories?” he demanded furiously. “He knows that is forbidden!”
“Please don’t be so mad, M’jan,” she begged him.
“Do not tell me what to feel,” he barked at her, releasing her sharply. “That is twice you have tried today. Do not let there be a third!”
Magnus turned and began to dress so he could hunt down his son.
“Ajai Trace!”
Trace knew that displeased bellow anywhere. He had, after all, grown up with it. While Magnus tended to be even-tempered and mellow in speech, he had a voice of incredible power that he put to magnificent use whenever he was angry, formally lecturing, or calling out a Sinner.
Trace knew instantly that he had been caught.
It didn’t matter that the incident in Ashla’s rooms had taken place two days earlier. He still knew. Firstly, there was no other reason why Magnus would be that furious with him. Secondly, it was simple logic. Thirdly, he was his son and he just knew. He just knew.
“Here, M’jan,” he called, sitting back at his desk.
Magnus, like most male ’Dwellers, wore boots. The clipped and ominous approach almost had the power to make Trace feel fifteen years old again, despite that having been a very long time ago. Still, he was a man and had lived a man’s hard, convoluted life, so almost wasn’t enough. He did feel bad, however, for disrespecting his father’s house.
Magnus rounded the doorway in full stride and impressive temper. It compelled Trace to his feet as he faced his foster father.
“Damn you, boy, how dare you?” he demanded right off, the father knowing full well the son was aware of his own indiscretions. “I raised you better!” he bit out, his free hand pointing to Trace in emphasis. “You know I cannot let this slide! Penance for an adolescent’s trick, at your age!”
“Yes, M’jan. I am sorry to disappoint you,” he said with quiet sincerity.
“I just don’t understand. This isn’t like you. No one respects temple and Sanctuary like you do who is not priest or handmaiden. And what is worse, I had to hear it from my own handmaiden! It took the poor woman two days of distress before she finally relented and did what she had to do. How dare you put her in such a position of crossed loyalties?”
“I had not realized that, M’jan,” Trace said with honest regret.
“Whether it was Karri or a student or anyone else, their loyalties would have been torn. To pit yourself against me in the eyes of my students and those I call my colleagues—it is unconscionable!”
“Yes, M’jan.” It was all Trace could say. Magnus was right. What was worse, until this moment he had not felt a moment of regret for his reckless acts. He had even laughed with Ashla for escaping unscathed. Magnus was right, it was beneath him. He quickly came around from behind his desk and supplicated to his father, lowering his head as he dropped to a knee. “M’jan, I know I deserve no consideration when I gave none to you and your house, but I beg you not to hold Ashla responsible. She doesn’t understand our ways, our religion, and certainly she will not understand penance.”
More importantly, Trace thought, she would not be able to bear it.
“She will quickly come to,” Magnus promised him with no small level of threat.
For the first time in his life, Trace felt a surge of temper at his father’s unrelenting interpretation of the rules. He rose sharply to his feet, facing him squarely. “That is unfair. What of understanding? What of compassion? She is a babe among us. I will not allow you to punish her for my misguidance!”
“You will not allow?” Magnus was absolutely and utterly flabbergasted. “You will not allow? Just how will you prevent me when you yourself will be on your knees in the penance chamber? If she lives in my house, she abides by my rules and my disciplines. You know that. You were all but born of that!”
“Then she will no longer live in your house!” Trace shot back harshly. “She will live in mine. And here she will stay, under my compassion and my understanding.”
“The future does not change the past,” Magnus hissed, disbelieving his son’s hard-line opposition against
him. Magnus had never seen him do anything like this. Not against him. Trace was a formidable man, of that there was no doubt, and Magnus was quite proud, but he had also raised him to have ultimate respect for his father above all others. He was stunned to see him undermine that for the sake of the half-breed girl.
And had Magnus not already been blindsided by the devastating realization that there was a viper within his carefully constructed nest, he might have slowed his temper and asked for clarification. He was a stickler for discipline, true, but he was also a priest and a man of great reasoning. However, his understanding that he was housing a devil that had been directly responsible for the near murder of his one and only son made him forget all of it as he took it out on the closest target presently pissing him off.
“Father, don’t do this. Don’t make me square against you any more than I have. I alone have wronged, not Ashla. She has been through enough.”
“Having a bitch for a mother doesn’t exclude or excuse her from the rules, Trace.”
“What does, hmm?” Trace challenged him. “You say that as if there are exclusions and excuses, but there never have been with you. I understand, M’jan, that this is what makes Sanctuary the great institution that it is. I respect the scope of your accomplishment for our people, but you cannot be so absolute and unbending this time.”
“What is wrong with you?” Magnus roared in sudden fury. “You say you respect, but you do not speak with respect!”
“Neither do you!”
“Let penance be done and that is the end to it!”
“Over my dead, rotting, mutilated body!”
“Ajai! M’jan!”
Both men took several beats to stop glaring at each other before finally looking toward the Chancellor who commanded their attention. Malaya was heaving for breath, clearly having run fast and hard to arrive there, and probably from some distance, since she didn’t wind easily. She stood braced between the archway, Guin hard and ominous at her back as always, and beyond him a small crowd of palace personnel who had been drawn by the shouting.
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