by Ann Lawrence
“You think the goddess put everyone to sleep?”
He nodded. “Don’t drink it.” He took her hand. “And one more thing: When I saw Cidre, she was coming from the direction of camp. I thought it was Einalem at first.”
Ardra stood there, separated from him by the length of leir arms. “Einalem is very beautiful.”
“She’s a raptor.”
“You found her beautiful.”
“How do you know?”
“I am not blind.”
“Ardra, men react to naked women. It’s a fact of life, but not very meaningful. Einalem may be beautiful, but she’s also cold and calculating. She scares the living daylights out of me.”
A laugh bubbled in Ardra’s throat. She put her fingertips over her lips to hold it in. “I do not believe you.”
“Okay. I lied. Her brother scares me.”
“Samoht scares me too,” she whispered and placed a hand on Lien’s chest. “The thought that the goddess put everyone to sleep scares me.”
“I’ll be right outside in the hall.”
“Stay here.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
He looked down at her hand, then up at her face. “There was nothing going on between Einalem and me.”
The fortress was silent around them. She felt hidden from the world. From its censure. From its rules.
“What’s going on between you and me?” He kissed her forehead.
“Nothing, Lien. You are a pilgrim.” His lips were so warm, so soothing.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to be celibate. In Ocean City it doesn’t work like that.”
“Here it does.”
“Here in general, or just here in your room?”
A tremor swept through her. She must choose. Now was the time. Treat him as a pilgrim, or treat him as a simple man.
“I am very confused,” she finally managed.
“I’m not. I want you in my bed, but you only want a kiss.”
“I know what follows the kiss, Lien. It is a man’s business.”
Lien held her by the shoulders. “Do you think Einalem would spend so much time in Ralen’s drawers if she didn’t get something out of it?”
“You are speaking your Ocean City language again, but you are wrong. Very wrong. You believe Einalem enjoys Ralen’s lovemaking, and I believe she merely wishes him for a lifemate. He may rival Samoht one day in power, and Einalem knows that. She revels in power. That is all she seeks from Ralen.”
His hands kneaded her shoulders, and she wanted nothing more than to move closer.
“Ardra,” he said and bent his head. “I wish you’d let me show you how wrong you are.”
His mouth moved over her lips to her cheek, her temple, her ear. His breath was warm on her throat. His fingers entwined with hers.
“You wanted to leave us,” she said when he touched his palm to her breast.
He dropped his hand and shook his head. “Look, Ardra, you made it clear you didn’t need me.” He picked up his cloak. “Maybe I’d better sleep outside.”
He would leave if she did not stop him.
“What is it Einalem gets from Ralen?”
The cloak slid from his fingers. “Why don’t I show you?”
He reached her in two steps and wrapped her in his arms. They stumbled backward to the bed couch, and she felt as if all the air had been snatched from the room.
“Wait.” He pulled away.
She almost cried aloud at the loss of his warmth. He jammed a chair beneath the latch and placed his stick on the floor beside the couch. Still her protector.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured and pulled his tunic over his head, then dropped it on the floor.
On his chest rested the gold chain. And the red roses. Samoht’s emblem.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You wear the red roses.”
“Back to that?” He wrapped his hand around the chain.
“Inside, I know you are not Samoht’s man. It is just hard to ignore something I have been raised to fear.”
Lien turned around and pulled the chain over his head. “That’s the first time you’ve admitted I’m not Samoht’s man.” He knelt by his pack and stuffed the chain inside. “It’s all I have from my family. I’ll leave the roses off, but I won’t part with them. Think of them as I think of your arm rings.”
She rubbed her upper arm as she went to his side. It was easy to forget the mark of her status. When she looked into Lien’s pack, she saw only his spare tunic. He truly had nothing.
She pulled out the chain. The roses glinted in the meager light of her single candle. “Wear them.”
He took the chain from her and slipped it over his head. When he embraced her, she spread her hands across his chest and touched the roses. They were naught but cold glass—a marvel, but not sinister. She had nothing to fear from them.
Or him.
He had done naught but defend her. Three times.
His nipples pebbled when she rubbed them with the flat of her thumbs.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
She looked up at him. “I am not sure what it is we will do.”
“Kiss. Touch. Nothing you’re uncomfortable with.” They returned to the narrow couch and lay down. Nose to nose. Chest to chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, combed it back, and studied her face.
“You have black and gold in your eyes, Lien,” she said.
“And you have gold and gold and gold in yours,” he said, then kissed her.
He tasted forbidden. She could not prevent a small moan when his tongue entered her mouth. She arched against him. His body was ready for lovemaking.
“Is this meaningful, Lien?” she asked, pressing against the hard ridge that lay along his belly.
“Very. God, Ardra, yes. It’s meaningful.”
“I am…frightened…nay, not frightened. I do not know what I am. I want to touch you, and I want to run away.”
He was hungry. She recognized that. She knew the feel of an aroused man.
“I’ll look after you,” he said and ran his hand over her breasts. Again and again.
Each pass of his hand raised a need she could not express to him. “I want…I do not know…”
“Shhh,” he whispered. “You’ll understand. Later.” He slid down and pressed his lips to her breast. His mouth, hot, eager on her, made her insides ache.
A quick, sharp jolt from her breast to her groin startled her. A liquid heat followed it.
It took one heartbeat to decide she wanted to do as he had. She must taste him.
The moment she ran her tongue across his nipple, he arched and shifted his hips on her. Ready? Nay, she had deceived herself before. Now—now he was ready.
He put his hands on her head, and every breath he took was harsh and loud in the silence of the room.
“Ardra?” he whispered. His hands cupped her face; his thumbs skimmed her lips. “This is the time when you can say stop…if you wish to.”
“I do not wish to stop, Lien.”
He ran his hands down her body, over every curve to her ankles. Then he ran his hands up her legs, her gown going with it.
He bared her to the waist and leaned down to kiss her hip and then her thigh, the inside of her knee.
“More?” he asked, moving up her body to claim her lips again.
She could only nod, lost in the depth of his eyes, now black in the faltering light. He placed her hand on his waist.
Together they fumbled his laces open. She spread his breeches and skimmed her fingers along the smooth pale skin of his belly. She tasted him from his throat to his waist.
He drew her gown up as she tugged his breeches down.
She got caught up in her gown, and tore at it. Then she was free and he was too.
They lay again, face-to-face. His chest heaved with each breath he took.
He skimmed his thumb over her nipple again and again. It maddened her, and she slappe
d her palm over his hand to still the motion. A small smile curved his lips but disappeared when she bit on his lower lip.
Another jolt of something both painful and pleasurable twisted her insides. She gasped, and did it again, took his lower lip between her teeth and bit down.
He groaned. His fingers clenched on her shoulders.
She sat up, nearly tossing him onto the floor. She threw her legs over the side of the bed couch and wrapped her arms around her middle.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I did not mean to hurt you.”
He sat behind her, putting his legs on each side of hers. His arms hugged her like a warm cloak. Her feet looked so small flanked by his large ones on the cold wood floor. His whole body embraced her, the hard length of his manhood nestled against her back. He held her so snugly she could not fail to feel every inch of him.
“Do I act like I’m in pain?” He kissed her neck. “I’m sorry for scaring you. It wasn’t pain I was feeling, it was great pleasure.”
She leaned her head back and arched into his warm palms when he cupped her breasts. “Have you a brazier in your chest?”
“Why? Am I hot?”
“Very.” The word was hard to say, for he had slid his hands down her. His fingertips stroked closer and closer, urging her to something she did not understand. She spread her hands over his hard thighs and hung on. “What of you?”
“Just forget about me,” he said. “Close your eyes.” His lips roamed her shoulder. “Forget about me.”
Impossible.
She leaned back on him, let her heart jump and thud. Let his touch bewitch her.
Unbidden, she spread her thighs wider for him. She closed her eyes and gripped his left hand. His right hand roamed. He stroked, caressed. Invaded.
Strange sounds came from her throat, sounds she could not stay, sounds of madness.
She pushed against his fingers. Sought something elusive.
And found it. Suddenly. A tide of sensation flooded her. It swamped her body from his fingertips to her breasts, feet, hands.
She gulped air again and again to keep from screaming.
Then it ended. In waves of tiny spasms.
“Ardra?” He wrapped his arms tightly about her. “Are you all right?”
How to answer? Should she lie? Should she tell the truth? The truth would enslave her.
“I understand now.” She stood up. Her legs trembled; her body ached. Her gown seemed so far away, discarded by him.
He reached for her, but she evaded his grasp, sweeping up her gown and pulling it over her head. She went to the table and snatched up some bread. Her hands shook so hard she could barely get it to her mouth. It was dry, but she forced herself to eat it.
The room tipped.
“Ardra?”
She turned around. He was standing. A black line of hair on his belly drew her eyes straight to his hard manhood.
Then she saw the snake about his arm. It had writhed as if alive when he had caressed her. Or had it?
Where had that thought come from?
She took a step and offered the bread. “Are you hungry?”
“Not for bread.” He held out his hand to her. The snake on his arm shifted.
She stumbled to the table and lifted the goblet.
“No. Don’t drink the wine.”
He took the goblet away. When he touched her, her fear fled and it seemed all nonsense, all some strange trick of the light. She skimmed her fingers over the snake. A pulse ran through her fingers—an echo of the pleasure he had given her.
“Come to my bed, Lien.” She tugged on his arm, then stumbled on the hem of her gown.
“Steady,” he said, guiding her back to the bed.
She lay down on her side, and when he settled beside her, she burrowed against his heat. “What comes next?” She yawned.
“Nothing, Ardra. Just rest.” He kissed her forehead. “I guess the drugs were in the bread, not the wine. How do you feel?”
“Who are you?” she managed.
He kissed her mouth. “Your faithful guard dog.”
“Nay. You wear the snake. And the roses—” She wanted to say more, but he slipped from her embrace and picked up his tunic.
His manhood still jutted from the dark hair at his groin.
She wanted to call him back, invite him inside her, know all the secrets hidden by the mating ceremony. A surge of liquid heat made her shiver. The words would not come. Her lips felt thick, her tongue slow.
Her eyelids grew heavy, and he faded. She tried one last time to call to him, but he made no answer.
Lien tiptoed from the chamber and set out to explore the fortress. All of Ralen’s men were fast asleep. It was Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Nothing stirred.
Why had they all been put to sleep? What was Cidre hiding that an unexpected visit might interrupt?
He investigated a whispering sound. The source was a young woman who walked toward Cidre. They stood in the entrance to a stairwell leading down into the bowels of the fortress.
“Ywri! There you are,” Cidre said to the girl. “I have looked everywhere for you.” Her voice rose. “How many times must I tell you, strangers are dangerous?” She gripped the girl’s wrist and dragged her to the hall. “Look. Dangerous men, fortunately asleep. You know what may happen with men.”
Lien held his breath and willed himself part of the stone wall as the two women neared his hiding place by the stairs.
The hearth lighted the young woman’s face, and Lien understood the goddess’s concern. From where he stood, he could see that the girl was a beauty. He could also see the vacant look on her face, the puzzlement in the angle of her head.
“I will try,” she said to Cidre. “Is not my gown pretty?”
Cidre sighed. “Aye, but you are not to show yourself until these men leave. Do you understand, Ywri? Do you?”
The young woman nodded, but she was peering around at the sleeping warriors and Lien suspected she did not.
“Thank the gods I found you before one of them did.”
Lien waited until Cidre had led the girl away to the lower levels of the fortress. He considered exploring further but didn’t want to risk tripping over one of Cidre’s guards.
Although he thought it extreme, he understood why Cidre had put them to sleep. Perhaps some warrior had threatened the girl in the past. It showed a concern he had difficulty reconciling with the evil reputation she had.
Chapter Twelve
The sunrising announced itself outside, though Ardra saw none of it. She knew only that it was a new day when Deleh burst into the room. A slave girl brought buckets of hot water and clean linens. Deleh and she shared the water; then Deleh washed Ardra’s hair.
“You must appear at your best, Ardra, else Cidre will treat you badly.”
“Or Einalem will,” Ardra muttered. Deleh combed her hair loose about her shoulders.
Next, Ardra stepped into a gown of soft ivory linen. Over that she wore a long-sleeved amber tunic, tied with turquoise thread. She slipped a silver chain over her head. From it dangled a disk of silver with a chunk of amber at its center. Etched around the amber was the path of the labyrinth beneath her fortress. No one seeing the lines would guess ‘twas anything more than a knotwork design from the ancient days. No one would know it was the key to the maze’s many twists and turns.
The pendant was a symbol of her power in Selaw just as the Black Eye was Cidre’s in the Tangled Wood.
Thoughts of another chain, another symbol, entered her head. Roses, red roses, sliding across Lien’s dark chest as he moved toward her…
“Hurry, hurry. Everyone is waiting,” Deleh nagged.
Lien will be waiting.
She shooed Deleh away and sat on the edge of the bed. She stroked the covers and furs. Had she really sat just here and let Lien bring her pleasure?
She now understood what Einalem received from Ralen. Physical pleasure did exist. Not in a mating ritual, but in private, between one man and one wom
an when no one watched.
And why had Lien not stayed the night with her? Where was he? Had he slept outside the door? Or here in her arms, leaving with the first light?
She remembered his words about the bread. It was gone, taken by the slave girl with the water.
Did Lien despise her for leaving him unsatisfied? Think her useless? Or was he grateful that his pilgrim vows had remained intact? Or somewhat intact.
A sudden sensation coursed through her. A small reminder of the greater sensation, the twisting, ripping pleasure of a climax.
She jumped to her feet, her palms sweaty. She wiped them down her thighs.
Shoulders back and chin up, she left her chamber.
The morning meal had been set out in the great hall. It was filled with light from the dazzling white walls and tall windows that were inset near the ceiling. A long table on a dais, draped in white, now stood before the hearth.
Samoht, Einalem, and Ralen descended the stairs together. Where was Lien?
Deleh tugged on Ardra’s sleeve. “Whose bed did Einalem share last night? ‘Tis said she loves her brother more than is natural.”
Ardra’s breath hissed in. “I have told you not to speak such tales. It is kitchen talk.”
Lien and Nilrem walked down the steps behind the goddess, who was dressed in a gown the same color as the one she’d worn the night before. The sleeves of this gown were tighter, however, the neckline higher, the Black Eye no longer about her neck.
Although Lien used his stick, he moved as fluidly as a cat. She now knew he faked the need for it, but did not blame him.
Were they not all hiding something?
Was she herself not hiding her fear and loathing of the goddess?
“How shall we address you?” Samoht asked.
“Why, simply as Cidre. We need not be formal, need we, Ralen? We became good friends on your last visit, did we not?”
Cidre sat at the head of the table and waved everyone close. “Come, sit on my left, Samoht, and Ralen, on my right.”
Einalem sat beside her brother, and Ardra walked around the table to Ralen’s side. She did not wish to align herself with Samoht or miss some silent exchange between him and the goddess.
Lien sat with Nilrem—far away. The sight of his sun-darkened hand on the snowy cloth made her insides heat. He had magic hands. But she did not believe in magic.