by E G Manetti
Crossing the scarlet threshold, Lilian is confronted by Monsignor Lucius Mercio prowling back and forth in front of windows that display a lowered sky and a sodden Garden Center.
Milord is not pleased. Mind racing, Lilian finds no error or custom violation that would cause milord’s displeasure.
“What know you of the dismissal of Shoshanna Revetali?” milord demands.
When? How? “Mistress Shoshanna has been dismissed? I knew it not.”
Milord turns from the windows, frowning. “You knew it not? She was dismissed late yesterday. I thought your consortium more efficient.”
Adelaide’s Thorn! Rebecca and Douglas were both distracted by Gil. “Please, milord, truly, I knew it not.”
“You know naught of her dismissal?” milord challenges, stalking forward.
“Naught until this moment, milord.” Knowing she is not at fault, Lilian is able to hold her ground and milord’s gaze. It is well I left this to Douglas. Douglas! “Forgive me, milord. I spoke in error. I am aware that there are those among the associates who would see Mistress Shoshanna swept from the Cartel. I lament it not. I had naught to do with the matter. Milord forbade it.”
As Lilian speaks, milord closes with her so that Lilian must tip her head back to meet his gaze. Unconvinced, milord reaches out one hand to hold her chin.
“Are you certain?” Dangerous silk enters milord’s voice.
“That milord forbade it? Yes. That I had naught to do with it? Also yes. Milord, I would not defy milord’s stated will.” Lilian represses a whimper of distress, horrified that milord believes she knowingly defied an explicit command.
Lucius looks into Lilian’s face, searching. He knows too much of her nature to believe she easily forwent retribution. No. Lilian’s errors have always been in gray areas. Even the issue with Andreas was a matter of stricture, not his stated will. She has offered no hint of direct defiance, and there is none now.
“No, you would not.” The displeasure is easing in milord’s face. “I believe you know more of this than you admit.”
“Yes, milord.” Mind scrambling, Lilian searches for an answer that will give milord what is required without betraying Douglas.
Intrigues are common. Successful intrigues are usually applauded. The only exception is when an apprentice successfully intrigues against someone of higher rank. “With milord’s indulgence, is it enough to confirm that Grey Spear has cleansed its own house?”
At Lilian’s confession, Lucius’ eyes sharpen. For several years, the increasing disorder within the Grey Spear Cartouche has been a concern. That there are those within it willing and able to address the disorder is promising. Lucius relaxes his grip on Lilian’s chin, shifting his hands to her shoulders.
“Were any Blooded Dagger Ravens involved?”
“No, milord.” Although it is difficult, after fourteen months, Lilian is able to meet milord’s intent gaze. Did she know it, there are ranked warriors who cannot manage it.
“Any others of my house?” The tension between Grey Spear and Blooded Dagger has been building for over a decade. Lucius is navigating the edge of the Crevasse to keep the Cartel on a steady course while he works to remove the increasingly erratic Sebastian Mehta from Grey Spear preeminence.
“Only to speak the truth in a public place. To be heard by any with an interest.” There were no stricture or privilege violations. Lilian resists the urge to lick her suddenly dry lips.
“None of this relates to the beverage incident of this past race day?” Lucius watches as Lilian grapples for an answer that will be truthful. To protect herself or someone else?
“I cannot say so, milord.”
The fingers on Lilian’s shoulders tighten.
Shaking her head in denial, Lilian pleads, “Please, milord. It was but the final weight on an already over-full scale. I owe a boon for this, but I did not cause it. It was done for the benefit of Grey Spear and Serengeti, not for me.”
Protecting someone else. The only member of Grey Spear Lilian would protect is Douglas. He will make a formidable associate, and Aristides is proving a reliable Cartel seigneur. Lucius has no interest in creating strife in that quarter.
The hard hands loosen their pressure. Milord’s face loses the last of its harshness. One hand cups Lilian’s face, a thumb stroking her cheek. “Very well, it is enough. I know it was difficult for you to leave this matter to others. I am pleased.”
To demonstrate his pleasure, Lucius pulls Lilian in for a kiss, one hand cupping her head while the other captures the curve of her ass and pulls her tight to his groin, where a pleasant heaviness is forming.
Milord’s hand cradles Lilian’s head as his lips tease along hers, followed by milord’s tongue. Milord pulls her close, his fingers digging gently into the curve of one buttock while the bulge of his sex stirs against her abdomen. With a sigh of mingled pleasure and relief, Lilian opens her mouth. Her hands slide to milord’s shoulders as she presses against the burgeoning hardness of milord’s sex.
Milord’s tongue rushes in to tangle and stroke, tasting of spice and milord. With a small moan, Lilian pushes closer until she is pressed against milord’s hard form. A familiar warm, red haze forms behind her closed eyes as her limbs grow languid with heat.
Milord releases Lilian from his kiss as the hand cupping her head tugs her warrior’s queue softly. At the unspoken command, Lilian reluctantly opens her eyes to find milord’s eyes heavy lidded, his lips softened by passion and the hint of a smile. With deft fingers, milord releases her blouse fasteners and tosses the garment aside. Milord’s hands graze her ribs to rest under her breasts, the thumbs lightly teasing the tips through the teal lace. The gentle abrasion sets the sensitive peaks tingling and Lilian arching into the sweet contact.
With a hum of approval, milord gently pinches each tightening bud, his smile deepening at Lilian’s gasp of pleasure. Fingers skimming Lilian’s waist, milord releases her skirt to drop to the floor. Sliding his fingers into the band of the teal satin guarding her sex, milord glides it down her thighs and below her knees to float after the skirt. With a small nod, milord steps back, letting his gaze roam the lines and curves of Lilian’s form clad in naught but the small scraps of lace over her breasts.
Knowing milord’s will, Lilian steps out of her shoes, leaving them centered in the pooled skirt. Milord inclines his head to the low refreshment table while he drapes his jacket over a nearby chair.
The marble surface of the table is cold beneath Lilian as she stretches out, legs dangling over the edge, her toes scraping the silk rug.
“Legs off the table, feet on the floor,” milord moves out of Lilian’s line of sight to the refreshment cabinet.
What does he? Confusion leavens Lilian’s light arousal as she slides along the chill surface until her thighs find the edge and she braces her feet.
“A little wider,” milord says as something clinks on the stone surface above Lilian’s head. Walking around the table, milord steps between Lilian’s spread legs.
Milord’s tall form towers above Lilian, the long columns of his legs ending in his powerful torso, fully revealed in the absence of his tunic. Milord’s dark eyes are hooded, his heated gaze as palpable as a caress. The half smile holds distinct promise.
Lilian’s sex pulses in response, her thighs loosen further, and her hips tilt in invitation. Milord’s smile deepens as he leans over her, running his hands along the outsides of her thighs, along her hips and ribcage. The warmth of his hands contrasts with the embrace of the cold stone table, setting Lilian’s senses singing.
Milord captures Lilian in a feathery kiss, eliciting a small sigh and delicious shivers. His torso presses against her, the hot hard plane offering tantalizing pressure that swells her breasts. Milord’s hands lightly cuff her wrists, moving her hands to the table edge. “Hold here.”
Trembling with building anticipation, Lilian grips the table edge, arching in search of increased contact with milord’s strong frame. She is rewarded with
milord’s mouth descending on hers, carnal and demanding, and the weight of milord pressing her flat to the table. Desire flares as the combination of milord’s kiss, milord’s hard hot weight, and the chill stone collide, setting her senses alight.
With a soft laugh, milord releases Lilian from his kiss and eases back, his hands releasing the catch to her bra and spreading the lacey shields to reveal her flushed breasts and pebbled nipples. Dipping his head, milord licks, sucks, and nibbles first one taut tip and then the other until they are tight, aching points and her sex is slick and swollen with yearning. Dark mischief enters milord’s eyes as he admires the results of his erotic assault while he reaches over Lilian’s head to the object resting on the table.
The glass is dewed with moisture testifying to the icy contents. Deliberately, milord takes a long swallow and then slowly lowers the glass to her breasts and runs the icy surface across one hard, swollen nub. The shock of the cold after milord’s hot mouth has Lilian gasping and shuddering as her hands convulse on the table edge. With a widening grin, milord hovers the glass over Lilian’s other breast, building anticipation. No. Yes. Please. No.
“Yes,” milord whispers. The glass lowers and the icy shock sends bolts of sensation to Lilian’s core, which tightens and then heats and pulses in response.
Milord blows lightly across Lilian’s frigid tips as he slides the chilled glass along her abdomen relentlessly toward the red-gold curls and her increasingly aching sex. Shivering as her skin chills, Lilian writhes slightly in anticipation of the impending shock. No. Yes. Please.
“Milord!” Lilian writhes and arches as the cold presses against her heated center and the swollen jewel hidden in her curls. The icy contact inflames her desire even as it cools her flesh.
Cold retreats and once again there is a clinking over Lilian’s head. Milord has exchanged the glass for a teacup. Milord blows slightly on the steaming surface, the sight sending Lilian’s arousal into retreat.
Eyes crinkling, milord takes a slow sip, holding the hot brew in his mouth before swallowing. As milord’s throat works, the cup disappears to the floor. Milord leans in and blows across Lilian’s damp and chilled nipples, tightening the already impossibly hard and aching tips. Following his breath, milord’s mouth, hot from the tea, latches onto one peak, smothering the chill in a blast of warmth that jolts straight to her aching sex. The arousal that had retreated in trepidation surges forward with a vengeance. Arching her hips, Lilian seeks milord, eager for pressure against her aroused center.
“Not yet, Lilian,” milord murmurs. Pressing her pelvis back to the table, milord sucks her other nipple into the blazing cavern of his mouth, his tongue rasping across the tender and sensitized flesh.
Immobilized by milord’s commands, his thighs holding her knees apart, his mouth and hands pinning her to the table, Lilian whimpers her increasing passion, her rising desperation.
Ceasing his assault on her breasts, milord reaches for the teacup and takes another deliberate sip. Quivering in anticipation, Lilian moans softly as milord’s heated tongue blazes a trail down her diaphragm and delves into her navel. Another sip and milord’s fingers stroke the length of her cleft, teasing swollen flesh and circling the small nub of her desire, which sings from the earlier chill and quivers for a touch.
Heat washes across the surface with milord’s tongue, setting the eager jewel ablaze. Mercilessly, milord’s tongue circles and teases before pressing, coiling passion into almost unendurable pressure behind the tiny bud of nerves. Lips and teeth follow the blazing tongue, pushing Lilian to the brink.
“Please, milord, please!”
“Not yet,” milord rumbles, the command humming against aching tissues and calling a flood of moisture.
Milord’s fingers replace his lips and tongue as milord gently rolls Lilian’s jewel, holding her at the edge as the delicate flesh contracts demandingly, eager to be filled. Lilian’s muscles tremble as she struggles to hold her position. Milord relentlessly stokes her need until Lilian’s hips rise, leaving only her toes on the silk rug. With a rumble of satisfaction, milord withdraws.
At the sound of trouser fasteners, Lilian’s eyes fly to milord’s groin and the dark, hard length of his sex. Bracing his hands on the table, milord strokes his shaft along Lilian’s opening, causing her to buck and writhe in a futile attempt to achieve penetration.
Slowly, deliberately, milord runs the velvet head along her swollen jewel. The exquisite contact increases the coiled pressure of desire, clouding Lilian’s vision with a red haze. Milord strokes again and the spiraling tension contracts. Again and again milord strokes her with his rod, pushing her closer to the edge without sufficient contact for release.
“Please, milord, please.”
Milord slides his sex down and then into the entrance of her aching chamber.
“Milord!”
Milord glides in slowly, compelling Lilian to feel every centimeter of invasion. “You may release the table.”
Eagerly Lilian grasps milord’s shoulders, pressing up against milord, pulling him deeper. Milord pulls back to her entrance and thrusts hard. The deliberate pace is incredible, maddening, more than Lilian can bear. “Please, milord, please.”
“Yes, Lilian, yes.” Milord’s hips snap forward, driving deep, faster and faster. With each thrust, his pelvis hits Lilian’s sensitive and engorged jewel until with a final hard thrust, milord completely fills Lilian, driving against her primed nub. Sensation explodes outward, consuming Lilian, and her intimate muscles clench around milord’s hard, invading shaft. The red haze sparkles gold as milord cries out, release spasms through his sex, and the glory takes him.
Sevenday 73, Day 3
In the dim courtyard, rain whispers against the courtyard covers as Lilian glowers at the temporary roof. Once a brilliant azure, the covers have faded over the years to a dull gray. The unlovely color is patched with dark green in six places. The seal will hold. The price was outrageous.
As Lilian expected, once again the agent for Sinead’s Shrine suspected the source of the valuable puppets was Lilian’s tainted household and doubled her fee. The crafter who repaired the courtyard covers was even more rapacious than the one who repaired the kitchen.
Through careful management and sacrifice, Lilian has amassed reserves equal to four months of expenses, including Katleen’s school fees. She expected the residual from the sale of the courtiers to double that amount. It is increased by but a month.
This day. I am the sum of my ancestors.
Forcing back anger and frustration, Lilian shifts on the stone bench and turns to the dry fountain where Katleen stands defiantly. “Katleen, the master scholar is displeased with you. You know there is no place else should the Universalists dismiss you.”
“Yes, Lilian, I beg pardon. I should not have done it.” Katleen’s remorse is more for the consequences than her actions.
“Why, Katleen? Why did you strike this girl? You know it is forbidden.” While Katleen does not adhere to the Universalist Way, she knows that when within the school, she must abide by the tenets.
“I did not strike Beverly, I threw her,” Katleen defends.
“Warriors may consider a throw naught but a disagreement and not assault. It is not so for the Universalists, and you well know it.” Lilian does not wish to be harsh. They dare not lose the place at the school. “Throw or strike, you offered violence. Do not evade, tell me why.”
“I could not bear her insults,” Katleen cries, almost in tears. “She has taunted me and brought others to insult me since she arrived at the school at the beginning of the rainy season. She is sly and mean. We are not bloodthirsty and brutal barbarians.”
“Sit here with me, Katleen. We must discuss this. You are too well trained to have fallen prey to such obvious manipulation.” Privately Lilian recognizes that her sister is in many ways isolated, which does make her vulnerable to manipulation. “What does this Beverly gain by goading you to violence?”
“Naught” is
Katleen’s sulky reply.
Closing her eyes, Lilian represses the urge to shake her sister and reaches for patience. “Katleen, you are able to do better. What do people usually desire when they attack?”
“Something the other person has or something they can gain by the other person’s loss.” Some of the sulkiness leaves Katleen’s voice as she begins to think. “Beverly believes I taint the school with anarchy, that the Warrior Discipline is synonymous with anarchy. She is—was—jealous of my place in the Balance Way rituals.”
“A place you have now lost until the dry season,” Lilian is quick to point out.
“It is not fair. Her maliciousness is a greater violation of balance than one little throw.” Katleen complains petulantly.
“Katleen, you complete your thirteenth year within a few sevendays. It is time you release the notion that the universe provides justice. Warrior Stricture or Universalist Tenet, it is about preserving Order in the face of Anarchy. Justice requires honor, courage, cleverness, sacrifice, and luck. You will not encounter it frequently.”
At her sister’s nod of acknowledgement, Lilian continues, “So what do you intend to do about this Beverly?”
“Lilian, I do not understand. What can I do?” Katleen is feeling completely defeated.
“You did perfectly well with Gregor Matwan. You set Sergeant D’Angelo on him, and recall how well that worked out?” Lilian reminds her sister that the leader of the thugs from the festival brawl is incarcerated and awaiting execution. The investigation uncovered that his predilection for little girls included more than one murder.
“It is not the same!” Katleen protests.
“No, it is not,” Lilian returns coolly. “This Beverly is but a mean child, not a dangerous predator.”
Lilian is well able to tend to the matter should it come to it, but it will be better for Katleen to learn to defeat her enemies without Lilian’s direct assistance. “Use your mind. You need her called to order, if not swept from the school. How do you plan to see to it?”