Transgressions

by E G Manetti

  »◊«

  “Do you regret your defense of Mistress Heather?” Aristides wraps his arms around Douglas’ waist, relishing the contrast of Douglas’ hard, warm form with the cool, moisture-laden air blowing through the open patio doors. Beyond the patio of Aristides’ elegant pied-a-terre, the rain continues its incessant drumming in the already-sodden Garden Center.

  Relaxing into his seigneur’s embrace, Douglas briefly considers the question before answering, “No, milord. That day in the conference chamber, Mistress Heather desired not Master Martin’s attentions.”

  “Do you regret that her sweetness is but a pretense?”

  “A bit,” Douglas offers with an inward cringe. “I enjoyed my role as a hero.”

  With a chuckle, Aristides’ nibbles lightly on Douglas’ neck as he strokes Douglas’ shield-hard abdomen. “You indict Heather for ambition?”

  “No, milord,” Douglas concedes. “Nor for her loyalty. She did naught but what Seigneur Damocles required.”

  Pulling Douglas by a shoulder, Aristides turns the young man onto his back, placing one hand on Douglas’ hip. In this position, he can both view Douglas’ expressions and feel his reactions. “What troubles you in this?”

  How to answer? What to voice? Douglas will not lie to milord. Does he voice all, he could be caned. Again.

  “All you would voice, Douglas. I will not indict,” Aristides encourages his apprentice.

  “Mistress Heather relished Lilian’s correction. She believed it long overdue,” Douglas yields. “Has milord viewed...?”

  “Yes, Douglas, I witnessed it on the monitors. Were Mistress Lilian guilty, Blooded Dagger might choose to flay her. As Cartel discipline, it was extreme,” Aristides admits. “It is a wonder that Monsignor Lucius did not demand Seigneur Damocles’ signet.”

  “If my suspicion of Gil’s obsession is valid, milord…” Douglas suggests.

  “Then it is likely Monsignor Sebastian used the evidence of Seigneur Nemilis’ failing to retain Seigneur Damocles’ signet,” Aristides concludes. “Are you able to corroborate this?”

  “I know not, milord. I will attempt it.” Douglas has found Lilian and her friends to be exceedingly discreet. Within Blooded Dagger, there are others who are not as careful.

  It has never been voiced, but Douglas is certain that milord wishes to see the Grey Spear preeminence replaced. As Seigneur Aristides commands neither the kin nor the wealth to claim Grey Spear preeminence, it is likely he will use his influence and skills to elevate a warrior who holds Aristides in high regard.

  Bored of intrigue, Aristides turns to pleasure and takes Douglas in a kiss.

  Sevenday 76, Day 4

  “So, Lilian’s consortium has the whole of it,” Lucius remarks to Trevelyan, impressed. For the past half period, Trevelyan has briefed Lucius on this full history of Lilian’s lost nape ties and the conclusions of Lilian and her friends.

  “Not the entire group,” Trevelyan corrects. “Only those who are of Blooded Dagger. Neither Herman’s apprentice nor the new one, Vicenza, knows aught other than that Lilian is innocent of wrongdoing.”

  “Is there aught you would know that Tabitha has not voiced?” Lucius knows that Lilian will give him any information that Tabitha did not.

  “Nay, Monsignor,” Trevelyan grins. “Tabitha but confirmed what we already knew regarding Gil and Nemilis. Now we also know how the ties made their way to Grey Spear. Beyond that, the Ravens have no more notion than we of why Grey Spear would have wasted such powerful leverage to attack an apprentice. Grey Spear did swear to see Lilian caned, but to pursue that vendetta at the expense of commercial advantage? It seems unlikely.”

  “It is not impossible,” Lucius comments. “Sebastian has always been erratic and indulgent of his temper, although it was ill considered, even for him.”

  “Do you suspect some hidden purpose, Monsignor?” Trevelyan wonders.

  “Suspect?” Lucius raises his eyebrows. “I distrust everything Sebastian says or does, but I can find no purpose in this. Unlike my apprentice, I am not given special insights.”

  “As to that, Monsignor, Tabitha is now aware of Lilian’s insights,” says Trevelyan, adding the final note in his report.

  At Lucius’ frown, Trevelyan quickly continues, “Tabitha owes her freedom from Grey Spear to Lilian. She will protect Lilian’s secrets.”

  Relaxing into his chair, Lucius nods. “It is likely it will do no harm, and another to help guard this secret is useful.”

  “And Seigneur Nemilis?” Trevelyan asks softly. When confronted, Nemilis offered excuses and not contrition. Lucius had been icy in his anger. There is no doubt that Lucius will have retribution both for Nemilis’ neglect of her duty and the harm it has caused.

  “Leave her to me,” Lucius says coolly. “I will not risk surfacing the scandal we wish to avoid by acting too quickly.”

  »◊«

  As tenth bell chimes in the Dispensary, Lucius surveys the elegant length of Lilian’s back, relieved she cannot see his reaction. It is as Chin warned. The smooth, supple expanse is marred by three inches of puckered, twisted, and shiny flesh where Damocles’ blows intertwined across Lilian’s shoulder blades.

  The evidence of Lilian’s ordeal roils Lucius’ belly and reignites his rage. Sebastian will pay. It is no longer enough that Sebastian be swept from Serengeti. He must be shamed. Reaching out, Lucius tests the surface with two fingers. His delicate touch elicits a slight trembling from Lilian.

  With regret, Lucius says, “Lilian, Trevelyan has informed me you know why this will go unanswered.”

  “Yes, milord,” Lilian responds quietly. Lilian’s bond tally has been restored and a blood price added in recompense for the false conviction. She has known since the prior evening’s discussion with her friends that Grey Spear and Damocles would not be brought to account for their injustice.

  “This is readily corrected,” Chin quickly reassures. “Cosmetic intervention will require less than a bell.”

  “Can you execute it now?” Lucius turns from his contemplation of Lilian’s back to the Master Medic.

  “If we begin now, it will be done by midday,” Chin remarks. “Another three days of restricted duty, and Lilian will be free of scars. “

  “Three days!” Lilian startles.

  Collecting her emotions, Lilian moderates her tone and asks, “Master Chin, must it be now?”

  “What troubles you in this?” Lucius asks. He is no more pleased than Lilian. It has been almost two sevendays since he enjoyed his apprentice. He had been looking forward to her release from restricted duty. Nevertheless, she must be mended.

  “I beg pardon, milord,” Lilian apologizes for her outburst. “I have not trained in a sevenday. Auto-racers and forms are insufficient. Adelaide’s Discipline is demanding. My skills deteriorate.”

  “Forms, Lilian?” Chin interrupts, censure in his tone. Warrior Disciplines are strenuous, even without a sparring partner.

  “Only those that do not pull, Master Chin,” Lilian hastens to assure the medic. “I am mindful of the Master Medic’s will.”

  “Chin,” Lucius calls the medic’s attention. “How long can the cosmetic treatment wait?”

  Chin is as aware of Lilian’s reliance on her defensive skills as Lucius. “You may have until the coming First Day. No longer. Present yourself at ninth bell before midday. It will cause minor discomfort. You will be on restricted duty when you exit the Dispensary.”

  »◊«

  Water sheets against the tall windows of milord’s penthouse bedchamber. Night has come early and with it, the heavy cloud cover that brings the rain. As Lilian stands facing the windows, milord’s fingertips gently stroke along her ribs and her tender shoulder blades. The delicate patterns send tingling sensations along her back, down her spine, and, mysteriously, between her legs and to the tips of her breasts.

  Warm breath and then lips replace milord’s fingers, turning tingles into pleasurable aching. Milord is in no haste as his
tongue strokes the sensitive scar tissue on Lilian’s shoulder blades. The shudder of reaction that hardens Lilian’s nipples attests to the soundness of her senses.

  Setting his lips, tongue, and then teeth to Lilian’s neck, milord sends his hands to her torso and the aching tips of her breasts. Arching against milord’s hands, tilting her head to facilitate milord’s kisses, Lilian presses against the hard, warm strength of milord. The pleasure of milord’s touch has Lilian’s hips shifting, her buttocks pressing against the increasingly rigid length of milord’s shaft.

  Sinking to the floor, Lucius settles on his knees, pulling Lilian astride his thighs. The heaviness in his loins turns to heat as Lilian’s eagerly writhing buttocks rub his sex. Releasing one swollen breast, Lucius explores the delicate folds of Lilian’s cleft, opened and exposed by her spread thighs.

  In the wavering mirror of the windows, Lucius enjoys Lilian’s abandon. Her head is tilted back against his shoulder. Her eyes are closed, her lips slightly parted. Dark red locks trail across one taut peak while his hand fondles the other. The press of the hard pebble against his palm tightens his sack. Her sex is dark and mysterious, highlighted by bright red curls. Slowly, deliberately, Lucius sends a finger below those curls into the shadowed crease.

  At the touch of milord’s finger against her jewel, Lilian moans and arches, her thighs widening, encouraging further action. With a sound of pleasure, milord increases the pressure on her breast and rolls her jewel between finger and thumb.

  Gasping, Lilian rotates and shifts, eagerly encouraging the intimate probing as she presses back against the hard ridge of milord’s sex. The lips of her sex are swollen and aching, slickening with moisture. Exquisite pleasure tightens places deep inside Lilian.

  “Lilian, open your eyes.” Milord’s voice is hoarse with rising passion. “View your pleasure.”

  The translucent figures in the window are unmistakable, Lilian’s paleness entwined with the darker tones of milord’s deep olive skin. Her legs are splayed. Her sex open, vulnerable. The sight of milord’s fingers working her sex increases the intensity of the caress, making Lilian wetter, hotter, more eager.

  As Lilian watches, her breath comes in small gasps. Milord sends one long finger into her. The feel and sight of milord’s penetration sends pleasure shooting through Lilian. She is close. She wishes more. “Please, milord, please.”

  In response, milord sends a second finger into her while his thumb works her jewel, sending wave after wave of arousal through her heightened senses. Drowning in pleasure, Lilian gasps for breath as she writhes eagerly under milord’s touch.

  “On your knees,” milord instructs, easing Lilian forward, keeping her thighs parted. As Lilian’s forearms find the floor, milord grasps her hips and shifts them. The hot silken head of milord’s rod tests her opening, teasing, taunting.

  “Milord. Please, milord, please,” Lilian entreats, arching back, attempting to impale herself on the hard length. She needs this. The terrible tension that has been building for days is desperate for release. Release milord can grant.

  She is rewarded by the slow, deliberate slide of milord into her body. Pulling back, milord withdraws to her entrance and then slides forward again. It is exquisite. Lilian moans and bucks.

  With a pleased sound, milord increases his pace, thrusting faster, harder, deeper. It is wondrous. The pressure that has been building in Lilian’s core surges higher and teeters on a brilliant edge before it breaks free and shatters.

  As she convulses in ecstasy, Lilian tightens on Lucius’ shaft, pulling him deep as the delicate muscles contract. Intense pleasure thunders through Lucius, who convulses and spends, sparks of red and gold dancing before his eyes as release takes him.

  »◊«

  Lilian is drowsing. The heavy, dark red locks tumble about her face and shoulders as she lies sprawled on Lucius’ bed. Her lips are slightly parted, her skin flushed from spent passion. A light meal followed the interlude by the windows and then a shower that ended in the bed.

  The relaxed posture of the sleeping woman pleases Lucius even as he worries about the hidden damage to Lilian’s spirit implied by the dark shadows underneath her eyes and her increasingly prominent ribs. As troubled as he is about Lilian’s recovery, Lucius cannot regret that Sebastian Mehta has expended significant commerce advantage to cover the cost of Grey Spear’s malice. Had Sebastian not indulged his spite, the weapon provided by Gil’s obsession could have overset Lucius’ very carefully laid plans to rid Serengeti of Sebastian. It might have imperiled his control of Bright Star.

  As Lucius considers the odd working of Socraide’s Luck, Lilian’s eyes flicker open. The clear gray holds brief contentment. The expression flickers away as inquiry surfaces.

  “What is milord’s will?” Lilian inquires huskily.

  To enjoy you twice more before dismissal, Lucius thinks and then banishes the notion. Lilian is healed, not recovered. She requires rest. The bells advance, he must dismiss her soon. Nonetheless, there is one question he will have answered. “Had you known the true cost when you aided Tabitha, would you have done it?”

  It is a thought Lilian has considered since the judgement. Having been subject to Sebastian Mehta’s malice for a day, Lilian would not leave another to endure it. “I regret it not, milord. It is well for Blooded Dagger that Mistress Tabitha is exceeding even Seigneur Trevelyan’s high expectations, but if she were less capable, I would still be glad we had freed her from Grey Spear.”

  “Lilian?” Lucius lightly strokes her jaw.

  Taking a deep breath, Lilian confesses, “I would not leave another at Monsignor Sebastian’s mercy.”

  Behind the gallantry of Lilian’s conviction, rage flickers. Lilian failed in her intent to strike back at Gariten. Has that conviction transferred to Grey Spear? If so, when Lucius succeeds in sweeping Sebastian from Serengeti, it might go far in healing Lilian’s spiritual wounds.

  Stretching to release a sudden tightening between her shoulder blades, Lilian adds, “It has yielded another value, has it not, milord?”

  “How so, Lilian?”

  “The scandal of Gil’s obsession could have given Grey Spear great advantage.” Lilian carefully phrases her suggestion.

  At milord’s encouraging nod, Lilian completes, “It is well for Blooded Dagger that the weapon has been disarmed. I would not have wished the experience, but I am glad of the result.”

  For a moment, Lucius is voiceless at the implications of Lilian’s words. He mentally reviews the number of Blooded Dagger seigneurs who would pay such a price for the benefit of the Cartouche. It is a short number.

  Pulling Lilian into his arms, Lucius remarks, “I would have preferred other means, but I am pleased it is done. Grey Spear’s malice is becoming increasingly costly to his cartouche.”

  Lilian’s suspicion hovers on the tip of her tongue. Disordered wits, not malice alone, may be the source of the erratic governor’s inexplicable behavior. Whether she would have found the courage, Lilian is not to know. Milord’s mouth finds hers, and Lilian’s wits scatter.

  25. Shrine Discipline

  As the original Three Systems expanded into twelve, governance became increasingly complex. As the Five Warriors’ Judgement Councils developed into the modern Governing Council, it was decided that the Governing Protocols should be focused on maintaining Order. Violations of honor would be left to shrine discipline. Correction would be determined and administered by the shrine discipline masters, who could use any combination of service, fines, and corporal punishment warranted by the offense. Offenses committed after a warrior achieved competency with a blade and the right to wear a dagger would be treated more severely than those made before succeeding at the competency trial. ~excerpt from The Foundations of Order, a scholarly treatise.

  Sevenday 80, Day 5

  The repetitive lilt of pipes from Lilian’s slate signals the arrival of the dawn hidden by the courtyard covers. Yawning and stretching, Lilian reaches out and silences the ala
rm. Rising from her bed, the tile warm beneath her feet, she moves to the double doors overlooking the courtyard.

  Slowly, carefully, Lilian begins the studied movements of Adelaide’s Contemplation. Today I live.

  Extending her arms, her stiff shoulder muscles stretch and become pliant. I am bonded.

  It is almost four sevendays since Chin eradicated the scar tissue on Lilian’s back, leaving it as smooth and unmarred as before. It is over three sevendays since she returned to her training routine. Lilian arches her back, delighted when the flesh neither pulls nor resists. There is only this day.

  With Maman’s and Seigneur Trevelyan’s aid, Lilian has rebuilt her stamina and flexibility. Moving more aggressively, Lilian slides through the postures, speed and grace increasing with each movement. I will not fail.

  Sweat gleams on Lilian’s skin as she fluidly works the forms. I will not fall.

  A shadow moves in the courtyard. Helena is ready for their match. There is only this day.

  Lilian rapidly dons her training garb and pulls her thorn from beneath her pillow. Today I live.

  »◊«

  “No hint of scandal?” Lilian mounts Serengeti’s inner staircase with Rebecca, both apprentices wary of the danger of intentional riser delays. Within the Blooded Dagger section, it is less likely than elsewhere but not worth the risk of late attendance at eighth bell.

  “None,” Rebecca smiles lightly. “Gil’s true passion remains a secret.”

  “Milord will be pleased,” Lilian smiles in return. They need not hurry, and neither woman is exerting herself for the six-level climb between their worksites and the seigneurs’ levels.

  “I do not understand why she is within the Cartel,” Rebecca snipes. “Why doesn’t he dismiss her?”

  “Rebecca—” Lilian begins to chide Rebecca’s irreverent reference to milord, but it serves no purpose. Rebecca is incorrigible. She has also failed to grasp what Lilian considers obvious. “Seigneur Nemilis is kin to Monsignor, distant kin, but kin. To dismiss her from the Cartel, Monsignor would need to take her signet and sever her from the Cartouche. Such actions would draw far too much attention.”