by E G Manetti
“It is different now, sweetling,” Lilian reminds her sister. “Monsignor is gracious to allow us to reside together. This is no means by which to repay monsignor’s trust.”
“Please Lilian, only until I slumber,” Katleen pleads. “Then you can return me to my bed.”
Sending her hand to stroke between Katleen’s shoulders, Lilian stares into the night. She need not be a Shrine Healer to understand the source of Katleen’s terror. Lilian’s brief incapacitation following the kitchen disaster has reinforced the precariousness of their situation.
Lilian’s optimism of Fourth Day retreated under Fifth Day’s need to address the vile slogans marring Katleen’s house and the recognition that the sea demons would not provide funds beyond the kitchen repairs. The Shrine’s agent suspected the source and demanded twice her customary fee.
Shoving aside her concerns for the coming seasons, Lilian addresses her sister’s plea. ”Katleen, you know you may not stay. I may fall into slumber and fail to move you.”
“Lilian?” Katleen returns. “Must I go? Would monsignor need to know?”
I am the sum of my ancestors. She is but eleven. I am the foundation of my family. Maman’s tutelage is erratic at best. Honor is my blade and shield.
Setting her hands on Katleen’s shoulders, Lilian replies, “Peace sister. You know I am sworn to the bond and monsignor’s service.”
“Yes Lilian,” Katleen nods.
“Then it matters not if monsignor knows or does not know,” Lilian insists.
“You will not be foresworn,” Katleen acknowledges. “Will you walk with me to maman’s chamber?”
»◊«
Immersed in her thoughts, Lilian pays scant attention to the throng that surrounds her exit from the public transport. Lilian’s training with maman ended with Lilian vaulting a stone bench rather than landing on her ass. Her successful avoidance was met by Katleen’s laughing applause.
When Lilian emerged from her shower, she discovered juice, a hard cooked egg and a roll. Two steps from Serengeti, Lilian swallows the last of the roll.
Entering the riser, Lilian attempts, once again, to order her recall of Third Day. She does not succeed. Lilian recalls her unfiltered response to milord’s unprecedented kindness and milord’s amusement. The rest remains a muddle.
I am the sum of my ancestors. Milord will instruct you. Lilian passes between the black enamel doors.
I am the foundation of my family. Milord was amused not angered. Mistress Marieth offers a distance nod in greeting.
Honor is my blade and shield. Milord sent Mr. George to check on her. Lilian crosses the scarlet threshold.
This day. It will be well. This day.
“Come Lilian, we will use the couch today,” Lucius rises from his desk as the final chime for the eighth bell concludes and leads his apprentice to the couch. Lucius searches Lilian’s face carefully. She remains pale and there are faint shadows under her eyes. There is no trembling in her limbs and her gaze is steady.
Every expectation Lucius held for Lilian’s strength of will and resiliency has been confirmed, albeit a great deal sooner than he anticipated. The schedule Lilian was keeping should have felled her. Add the challenges of ongoing insult and a dramatically altered way of life; it should have taken its toll sevendays gone. Instead, it required something akin to poison to bring her down.
Seated close to milord, Lilian turns to meet the intense scrutiny. After two months, Lilian has become somewhat accustomed to having that penetrating gaze turned upon her. She is able to remain composed, though not relaxed, under the weight of milord’s regard.
“How much of the conversation from Third Day you recall?” Milord’s tone holds naught but curiosity as he places one arm along the back of the sofa and behind Lilian.
“It is clouded, milord,” Lilian admits. “I recall Master Medic Chin’s instruction that I should not ingest stimulant wafers again. For some reason they do not agree with me.”
“I do not believe you should attempt to use stimulants of any type without the Master Medic’s approval,” milord’s hand drops to her shoulder and he gives a light squeeze.
“Yes milord,” Lilian replies obediently. Milord is undoubtedly correct.
Milord continues, “What else do you recall?”
“That I should not perform Cartel assignments,” Lilian offers in a questioning tone, knowing she is likely mistaken.
At milord’s confirming nod, Lilian continues, “Milord, may I inquire, what is the correct protocol should I receive such assignments?”
“You will not,” milord retorts, and then smiles discerning her thoughts. Continuing milord says, “Should you receive any, you will inform the Associate Master that I have forbidden it.”
“My thanks, milord. There is more, but it is all in pieces, something about boxes and strictures and Master Medic Chin. Am I to go to the Master Medic for counsel?” Lilian cannot hide the confusion and hope the notion provides.
“Yes Lilian,” milord responds as the hand on her shoulder moves to gently trace her throat. “If you are unable to discover a means through your own resources, seek out Master Medic Chin.”
“Do you recall which two strictures apply to the Master Medic?” Milord is intent on this, his hand stills.
“One and four, milord.” Of this Lilian is certain although she remains baffled. “Milord, if I may? Is this not rather exceptional?”
“You will find, Lilian, that the Master Medic is an exception to a great many strictures,” milord replies.
Before Lilian can venture a request for further instruction, milord’s hand drops away and he reaches for his slate. “Now, let us discuss your work. I will wish to hear of your visit to the Master Medic at midday.”
»◊«
“Lilian, are you well? I beg your pardon. The wafers are supposed to be safe. I’ve had recourse to them for years,” Rebecca finds Lilian in the Archives in the midst of complex financial analyses.
Deeply focused, it is several moments before Lilian is aware of Rebecca. Turning from her analyses, Lilian must think for a moment to hear what has been said.
“No matter, Rebecca, you could not know. I assure you such sensitivities are rare,” Lilian dismisses the concern.
At her friend’s open chagrin, Lilian yields further. Rebecca deserves to know. The blonde’s unwitting assistance is likely to prove invaluable. “As it happens, while unpleasant at the time, the episode provided benefit. The Cartel assignments were to have ceased with my training. I believe I may look forward to fewer late nights and a few more meals.”
“You have not heard the entire tale,” assured of Lilian’s well being, Rebecca is bursting to relay the latest Cartel gossip.
“When monsignor cancelled your involvement in those assignments, the Associate Master reassigned the tasks to the other associates. When that weasel, Ann Hunter, complained about being demeaned by apprentice assignments, the Associate Master rebuked her. According to Master Straus, Ann should have been humiliated not by the assigned work but her requirement for twice the time you used.”
Amused by Rebecca’s glee, Lilian does not understand it, “Weasel? What has this Ann done to warrant such ire?”
“She's another who takes pleasure in tormenting the apprentices,” Rebecca replies. “She’s a favorite of Monsignor Sebastian and one of Master Martin’s court. She is also adept at covering her mistakes by passing the blame onto one of us.
“When it's her word against that of an apprentice, it's Mistress Ann’s version that must be accepted. It's no matter if Master Straus knows better. She was able to pass one of her mistakes off onto Clarice this past sevenday. Clarice was rebuked by the Associate Master and had to surrender her Seventh Day to make up the work.
“And, thanks to you, I’m free of her for two more days so I may assist Master Trevelyan.” Shaking her head, Rebecca responds to Lilian’s unspoken censure.
“Offer me not such a gaze. Everyone believes the assignment is to reward M
aster Trevelyan for his success with the counterfeits affair. I would believe it, except that he has yet to touch me and I don’t expect he will. It is no matter. Master Trevelyan is satisfied with my effort. That is what will get me called again.”
Lilian says nothing as Rebecca flits away. Already intrigued by Master Trevelyan’s place in maman’s murals, her interest sharpens at Rebecca’s casual revelation. Lilian is certain Master Trevelyan favors women. Why he is not enjoying the lovely Rebecca is a mystery. Lilian recalls milord’s stunned reaction to Trevelyan’s request to preempt her friend. Even as she turns her attention to her assignments, Lilian ponders the conundrum of the spymaster.
»◊«
Milord is seated on the scarlet couch, Lilian propped against an armrest, her legs across milord’s lap. To her surprise, she remains mostly attired, lacking only her jacket. Milord has one arm across the back of the couch the other is tracing interesting patterns on her abdomen and rib cage through the silk of her blouse and linen of her skirt. In response to milord's command, Lilian is speaking.
“The Master Medic is displeased with my blood. The stimulant toxins are mostly gone but I lack needful elements. Master Chin has provided me with supplements for the next month. Milord was correct this morning. No stimulants of any kind, although I am allowed wine should I wish.” Lilian’s voice catches as milord caresses her cheek, neck and collar bone while his other hand expands its explorations in a very enticing manner.
“The Master Medic is also obsessed with my weight. Master Chin has threatened to force feed me should I fail to show some gain in a sevenday.” Lilian is now actively pushing into milord’s caress, her hips and pelvis making small involuntary movements.
“All is well here?” Turning over her left wrist milord strokes the little patch of purple over the base of her thumb. The small mark is black when the contraceptive is first administered. It fades to purple as the medication is released and turns scarlet as the dose is within three days of renewal. Should the patch not be renewed, the mark fades completely and fertility returns.
“Yes milord, the sudden weight loss has caused some variability, but all should even out in a month or two. I am not to permit the patch to become scarlet.” As Lilian finishes her recitation, milord slides her skirt up her hips.
Milord takes her mouth in a demanding kiss, one hand cupping her head. The other hand slips inside her blouse to caress her breast, stroking and teasing, eliciting pleasure and passion with the tightening nipple. Releasing her breast, milord’s hand moves lower, sliding along the silk and lace barrier across her nether lips. With a sigh Lilian arches into milord’s caress, gripping the buttery leather of the sofa cushions. Warm liquid dampens the silk between her legs as her excitement builds. Lilian can feel milord stirring beneath her.
Milord’s hand ceases its play. Cupping Lilian, milord completes the kiss. It is a lovely kiss but not what Lilian expected.
Milord is ceasing.
Viewing Lilian’s expression, milord smiles “Yes, I quite agree, but I do not believe you would enjoy a forced feeding. Go now. Attend me at seventh bell.”
»◊«
The after midday was long. Lilian could not settle. She would concentrate on a task for awhile. Then, when changing to a new view or stopping to check a calculation, she would be distracted by a sudden shuddering need for milord’s touch. Try as she might, Lilian was unable to dampen the sensations stimulated at midday.
A shift in her chair brought vivid recall of milord’s hands on her body, requiring her to summon all her discipline to keep still. Time and again Lilian forced her mind back to her tasks and her rebellious body to quiet.
It is with unmitigated relief that Lilian greets the slate chirp sending her to ready herself for the evening. The freshening puff, normally so soothing, has the opposite affect this day. It leaves Lilian’s skin tingling, heightening the already intense sense memory of her earlier encounter with milord.
With his usual grave courtesy, Mr. George meets Lilian in the lobby and escorts her to the transport. Seated in the transport, distracted by the sensations she is trying to control, it requires a moment for Lilian to realize that Mr. George has posed a question.
What said he?
“It pleases me to see you looking so improved Mistress Lilian, is it well with you?”
Recalling the question, Lilian is embarrassed to hear the thin breathiness of her voice as she responds, “I am well. Thank you Mr. George.”
I am the sum of my ancestors.
She must get control of her unruly desires. Unbinding her hair proves uniquely frustrating as her hastening fingers tangle in the nape ties. Forcing calm, Lilian is finally able to free her hair and order it. Finishing, Lilian leans back against the velvety, yielding leather and finds herself once again locking her legs and spine against a shudder of desire.
I am the foundation of my family.
Although she knows it cannot be true, the normally rapid transit seems to take several bells. Knowing her increasing arousal verges on scandalous, Lilian fights for control.
Honor is my blade and shield.
Lilian’s tension builds as she lacks the means to distract herself as she had after midday.
Honor knows not fear.
Closing her eyes against the waves of desire that are becoming more and more extreme, Lilian waits for the transit to cease.
Honor. Honor. Do not think about it.
It is all Lilian can do to force herself to a decorous pace as Mr. George hands her out of the transport and escorts her to the entrance. As soon Lilian reaches the privacy of the riser, she shrugs out of her constricting jacket and waits impatiently for the riser doors to open.
As they open, Lilian springs through them to stand searching for milord. She discovers milord attired in the scarlet robe, awaiting her at his favored spot by the windows. Relief floods Lilian at the sight. Milord will wish his pleasure soon.
As milord turns toward her, Lilian allows both jacket and slate to slip from her hands. She is drawn to milord as iron to a magnet.
At the sound of the riser, Lucius turns and is startled by the sight of his normally meticulous apprentice heedlessly dropping her jacket and slate bag on the foyer floor. Lilian’s eyes are dark, fathomless pools. Her face holds an odd, set expression.
Waiting for her, it takes Lucius a moment to interpret what he beholds. It is desire, stark and driving. The passion Lucius has been holding in check since midday rises in response. As the woman reaches him, Lucius puts one arm around her waist as the other cups her face, holding her for his kiss.
Lucius is startled again. Lilian’s arms slide eagerly inside his robe as she opens for his kiss, her body demanding against his. The unprecedented display of passion, coupled with the feel of Lilian against him, swells the lust that began to surge at the riser chime. Shifting his grip to Lilian’s bottom, Lucius pulls her up and hard against his rapidly stiffening rod.
Lilian’s arms twine about his neck as her head moves to the curve where Lucius’ neck and shoulders meet. Lucius feels as well as hears the whispered, “Please.”
Lilian swallows a small moan as, in response to her soft plea, milord turns to the nearby window and thrusts her against it. Lilian’s legs wrap around milord’s waist. She presses herself urgently against milord, desperate to sate the wild craving that grips her. Her face is on level with milord’s shoulders and collar bone. Lilian delves into that warm skin with its salty tang. Unable to resist, she licks and kisses the well-muscled flesh, breathing in the sharp sea scent.
Leaning into Lilian, Lucius frees one hand to slip under her skirt, reaching for the core of her. The wild working of her tongue and lips against his neck and shoulder turns Lucius’ arousal into urgent need. The silk and lace that covers her core is soaked. The tender flesh beneath is swollen and heated.
Lucius’ hand tightens and the small scrap of fabric yields to pressure it was never meant to withstand. Lilian is hot and wet for him. Lucius’ shaft jerks with urgen
cy. With one hand, Lucius explores Lilian’s swollen sex and the tight nubbin that controls her pleasure. Her wanton response dries his mouth and hardens him to the point of pain. Ceasing his explorations, Lucius shifts his grip, securing Lilian, positioning her for penetration.
Lilian is open and exposed. She can feel the tip of milord’s erection trying her opening. She cannot bear it. Beside herself with need, Lilian bites down on milord’s shoulder. She is completely undone when that urgent act is met with the desperately sought penetration. Hard, hot and long, milord is fully embedded inside her at last. Arching against milord, Lilian drives further onto the hardened shaft.
One whimpered “please” follows another as milord thrusts harder and faster. Milord drives them both to the edge and then over as release scatters Lilian into a myriad of bright and pulsing shards that merge with the twinkling lights of the abyss. Gradually, the pieces return. Lilian finds her open eyes staring at a well-executed fresco of the Third Warrior’s Temple of Knowledge rendered on the high ceiling.
For few moments she ponders the scene as the rest of her senses return and she feels the hard body holding hers begin to relax. Relaxing with milord, Lilian’s legs slide from around milord’s waist and make their graceful way to floor. Milord’s hands slowly release her buttocks as milord’s forehead leans against the glass wall. Eventually, milord eases upright and stands completely pulling Lilian with him so that her face rests against milord’s chest, her arms loose around his waist.
“Had I known teasing you so could elicit such a response, I would have done it long since.” There is deep satisfaction in milord’s voice along with a certain promise.
“Please milord, please. I beg milord, do not. It has been a most unsettling after midday,” Lilian entreats. Her ebbing passion yields to embarrassment at her unseemly display.
“Is that why you saw fit to chastise me?” Milord asks, his voice taking on a husky quality.
Startled, with no understanding of milord’s meaning, Lilian lifts her head. Before she can speak, she spots the small red mark on milord’s shoulder that could only have been imprinted by her teeth. “I beg milord’s pardon. I do not recall having done so.”