by L. K. Rigel
“It’s Garrick.” Roh stated the obvious.
Nin begged off to go back to her apartment, and Roh and Kairo went with Mal. They would wait with Harriet and be there for moral support when it was time to confirm the soul.
At the yin anteroom, Harriet gave Kairo a big hug. “Dearest, the news is out. I think you’re very wise.” Kairo poured herself another glass of champagne.
Harriet showed them all the thoughtful treats she’d ordered: champagne for Kairo, cranberry juice for the gestators, carrot cake and fruit salad.
Recently Harriet had come into an unexpected inheritance, and now she had plenty to spend. And if she mostly spent her new wealth on others, well, who would begrudge her that pleasure?
She handed Mal a plate of peeled blood oranges. “I remember when we shared blood oranges on the Blackbird, the day I met you. And now you’re about to bring another soul into the world.”
“Oh, Harriet.”
“Great gods,” Kairo groaned. “Hearts and flowers! Are we all going to cry now?”
They all laughed instead, and Mal was grateful to Kairo for lightening the mood. The chime rang three times to announce the beginning of the ceremony. “Have fun, princess,” Kairo said kindly. Harriet picked up Beastie and waved his paw.
Mal gave them a salute and went to her duty.
The pneumatic locks hissed and slipped into place behind her. Garrick was at the refreshments. He bit into a pear and grinned, barefoot and bare-chested in white satin pants. The dragon dagger was strapped to his calf. Those pants couldn’t fit any tighter.
What was it Nin had said about lust? A chalice had a right to her pleasure. Mal reached for the two jade picks that fixed her hair on top of her head.
“Let me do that.” He pulled out the picks, and her hair fell down. He ran his hands through it, spreading it out over her shoulders. She ran her hands over his skin. His shoulders were broader every time she saw him.
He unfastened the dagger and let his pants slide to the floor then knelt and put his hands on her abdomen. “My daughter.” He laid his head against her belly, and she ran her fingers through his hair.
She shouldn’t have worn Edmund’s bracelet.
He stood up again and lifted her gown off. “So we’re alone. And now you’ll learn a few things.” His expression was flat. Something was wrong.
He swept her up as if she weighed nothing and laid her on the bed. “I’m going to show you the miracle, princess.” He hissed into her ear. “You are going to come for me when I say, and you’re going to bring my daughter’s soul into the world. When I say.”
He pressed his mouth against her mouth, with his lips closed and his eyes open. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a threat. Not even Durga had ever spoken to her with such contempt. He grabbed her throat and pressed in with his palm. He could kill her.
But that was crazy. He wouldn’t hurt her, what with her carrying his daughter. And besides, she could incapacitate him with a whack of her elbow to his larynx.
She inhaled a deep cleansing breath. This was just another scene in the game he liked to play. Maybe he needed it. She was just edgy because they were alone.
“What’s this?” He pulled the dagger from its harness. The dragon’s ruby eyes caught the light and the blade gleamed. Okay, this was just wrong. Playing was fine, but not with sharp objects. She got up from the bed, but he grabbed her. “Don’t.”
He pushed her back down and sat on her legs. He used the dagger to tear a pillowcase into strips and bound her wrists together.
“Look at me.” He got to his feet and dragged her off the bed. He was actually incredibly strong. How naïve she had been. Before when they played this game of dominance and submission, he had only pretended she had control over him. He wasn’t playing now.
He pulled on the binding and walked backwards, taking her with him. “Is she a princess?” His giggle was creepy. “Is she a donkey?”
He pulled her down. “Hands and knees, love.” She couldn’t use her bound hands, so she rested her weight on her forearms, which put her butt up in the air. “Lovely.” He slapped her bottom, then knelt behind her and pulled her to him so she was sitting on his thighs, her back to his chest. He squeezed her breasts and pinched her nipples, then reached between her legs.
“Will your Edmund ever do this for you?” He licked her ear and stuck his fingers inside her. “I saw how he looked at you during the Rites.”
Was Garrick jealous of Edmund? There was no way to make sense of that. Why did she have to be so wet? “Oh, you do like it.” He rubbed his fingers against her clitoris, hot and wet with her own juices. “Edmund will never make you feel like this. Depend upon it. He’ll never be able to afford you.”
He kept pinching and rubbing. Against her will, she felt the first wave of orgasm.
“Not so easy, princess.” He pushed her forward onto her forearms and knees again. “I want to ride my donkey first.” And he plunged inside her from behind, and bang, bang, banged against her, laughing that insane giggle. He was ready to burst and her muscles squeezed involuntarily, but he pulled out.
“No, you don’t. No, you won’t. Not today.” He turned her over on her back and tweaked her nipples then slapped her breasts playfully. “Today, you’re getting nothing from me. I’m taking everything from you.”
He pulled her to her feet, untied her wrists, and laid her on the bed again. He threw the strips of pillow case aside, and then ... nothing. He paced from one side of the bed to the other, watching her as if she were a puzzle to figure out.
She stared at the ceiling to avoid his gaze. She wanted to kill him, but the point now was to get through this. He needed a successful ceremony. He would calm down.
He sat beside her on the bed. “You’re like an instrument, do you know that? And I am the musician.” He leaned over and sucked a nipple tenderly, and then with more force, murmuring his enjoyment, then reached between her legs again.
“If I pluck your strings, they must hum. Hum. Hum. . .” he hummed in her ear, deep and rumbling and romantic. He nuzzled her neck and moved back down to her breasts, then to her belly.
“Hello, little Counselor,” he said. “I’ll see you soon. Now let’s get you a soul.”
He moved his head between Mal’s legs and started to lick. More than anything in the world, she did not want to have an orgasm, but she needed to do just that. He reached up over her belly and played with her nipples and kept his mouth between her legs, licking, sucking. “Come for me, princess.”
“No.”
He chuckled and kept working at her, sucking, pressing, and he eased a finger into her anus and licked her clitoris and sucked and pushed and sucked and said come for me, and she said no, and he said come for me, come for me, come and there were no walls and no boundaries and everything opened and the soul was there and she shuddered with spasms of pleasure and said no, no, though her body said yes, and the “little Counselor” was a complete human being with a soul whether Mal liked or wanted her partner in the getting.
Garrick ran his hands over her belly and whispered, “Welcome to the world, little one.” He jumped up and put his clothes on. “I’ll see you in six weeks.” He strapped the dagger to his calf and pushed a button on the wall. “I look forward to it.”
The lock in the yang door hissed and clicked, and the door popped open.
She would never be irritated by the presence of the LOTHs again.
She lay still, longer than they had been in the room together. There was no denying, the soul had come in. She had felt it happen. She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, and Edmund’s bracelet gleamed in the light. A tear rolled out the corner of her eye.
She hated Garrick. She would put the talon on her back below one of her shoulder blades where she’d never see it.
In the yin antechamber, everyone but Kairo was gone, and she wasn’t all there, so to speak. There were two empty champagne bottles on the table, and that didn’t account for the bubbly she’d had at her apartment
. This day was turning out wretched. Someone should be here to confirm the soul. Kairo was too drunk.
“Oh. Hey, princess.” Kairo looked horrible, like she’d been crying. She should be happy. The king of Hibernia had to be better than Garrick. Mal didn’t even want to think about going go back for the lying-in. “I waited for you.”
“Please, Kairo.” Mal helped her to her feet. “I liked it better when you called me Ma-Da.”
“You’re right. Nothing’s funny anymore. It’s Nin, Ma-Da. She had a miscarriage.”
Short and Kind of Sweet
Within hours of the miscarriage, Kim was able to keep down everything she ate. After a few days, her skin tone was a beautiful olive color again. Her cheeks lost that caved-in, gaunt look. For the next two weeks, she slept around the clock, waking only to eat and shower and use the bathroom.
Mal and Beastie stayed with Nin and Kronos, and Harriet was there half the time. She and Mal would have tea and biscuits while Nin slept on the sofa.
“Can there be darkness in a soul?” Mal asked Harriet one morning. “Do you believe in evil?” With Nin’s miscarriage and Kairo’s contract demanding everyone’s attention, she could avoid talking about her soul ceremony. But she thought about it all the time.
Harriet said, “How could that be? A soul is a shard of the All and therefore perfect.”
“But there is something wrong in the world, in some people. I feel it.”
“Evil, Mallory? Nin said. “You sound like a Samaeli.” She’d been asleep on the sofa. When had she opened her eyes?
“Ninny! You’re looking even better today.”
“I’m very well.” Kronos jumped up and licked her face. “You haven’t told me about the ensoulment. Was it wonderful?”
“Oh, Nin. We don’t have to talk about that right now.”
“Mal, don’t cry. I’m happy.”
Harriet squeezed Nin’s hand. “There are other things you can do to serve humanity.”
Mal was half crying for herself. She got up and went to the window. There was a special bond between Nin and Harriet now that she couldn’t share. They were her two closest friends in the world, and she couldn’t talk to either of them about what happened in the ceremony. They had both lost their fertility; it would be petty to complain.
“It was awful,” Nin said. “I mean being pregnant. I’m glad I’ll never have to do it again.”
Nin had chosen her apartment well. Mal could see a nice bit of the outside gardens below and beyond that the beach and the bay to the southeast and the mountains to the west.
“I am sorry for pitaji and mataji.” Nin yawned. This was the most she’d spoken at one time in weeks. “Now the pressure’s really on my sister to bleed. But I just want to work with Sister Marin.”
“Special species of the world are shaking in their boots,” Harriet said. “Or they would if they wore boots.”
Nin closed her eyes. She might be telling the truth. She might really be happy to be out of it, and maybe she was right to feel that way. She fell asleep again, and Mal and Harriet let her rest while they went to say goodbye to Kairo.
She was leaving today for Hibernia.
Roh was at Kairo’s apartment, and while they were all waiting for the lift Sister Jordana joined them. “Mallory,” Sister Jordana said as the doors opened on the lobby, “we received a message on the gridcom an hour ago. King Garrick has died.”
Garrick had said nothing about his father being ill.
The lift door opened, and Kairo’s eyes went wide in horror.
“Oh. Great. Gods.”
A splash of dark freckles erupted over her nose. Mal had seen Kairo angry, frustrated, petulant – but never embarrassed.
The center of the lobby was nearly empty, onlookers kept out by a circle of wild-looking guards, male and female. Hibernia’s King Harold had come for Kairo himself. He stood in the center of the cleared circle, admiring the furniture, looking as happy as a proof.
“Shibadai.” Kairo didn’t lower her voice. “He looks like the king of the wildlings.”
“He looks nice,” Mal said. Nice had gone way up in value in her world.
The guards didn’t look nice. They had different shades of thick brownish-red hair. Feathers and beads jutted and dangled from random places all over their bodies. Their green, gold, and brown uniforms were all the same, but each guard wore a unique assortment of badges, necklaces, bracelets and odd decorations.
They carried no weapons – Red City’s guard wouldn’t allow that – and they seemed uneasy with nothing in their hands.
“He looks ridiculous.” Kairo said.
The king spotted her, and a delighted grin took over his face.
“No, he doesn’t.” Mal said.
“Yeah,” Roh said. “He kind of does.”
“He’s fat.”
“He is not fat. He’s stocky.”
“He’s shorter than you are, Mal.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Sister Jordana, Emissary. Greetings.” Harold, King of Hibernia, spread his arms wide and bowed, showing a leg.
“He really shouldn’t do that,” Roh whispered.
“I’ve come personally to escort Kairo to my country, fair play?”
He said Kairo with as much awe as if he had spoken the name of the All, but the interesting thing was that he said country instead of city.
“That was unnecessary, King Harold.” Sister Jordana towered over him, but the real contrast was her sleek, spectacular and hairless gracefulness against his small, robust and hairy exuberance. “But Kairo will take it as a great compliment, I am sure.”
“Hibernia cannot compliment Red City enough. The Matriarch once honored us such that we can never repay the debt. And of course, I would like to convey our condolences to the princ- to – to the – the Mallory.”
He looked at Mal with an exceedingly sad expression. What did he think needed condolences for? His ruddy face turned redder still. He had no virtues of appearance: Wiry, thick, red-brown hair, the lightest of blue eyes, blotchy pink skin – and he had to be in his late forties.
“Garrick is dead, long live Garrick, eh?” He winked at her then immediately turned even redder. “Oh, my dear. I mean no disrespect, fair play?”
“I heard none.” She liked him.
“I did so want to see the prin – the famous Mallory. Anyone would know you by your yellow hair. That’s a line from one of our poets, you know.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kairo’s exasperation. Her king, the king she’d finally settled for, was paying too much attention to someone else. To Mallory, great gods.
“Yes.” Harold went on. “We heard that your Ladies of the Hours feasted on beef and asparagus on your announcement day. Well, my dear, you haven’t had a decent filet until you’ve had Hibernian beef. I’ll send a side for your lying-in.”
“That’s truly not necessary,” Sister Jordana said.
What was she talking about? Hibernian beef would make her a hero to her LOTHs in Garrick.
“It is Hibernia’s pleasure!” He was certainly cheerful. “Anything for the – the Mallory.”
Kairo rolled her eyes.
“I see that you’re quite well, my dear. I would be happy to convey that information to the new King Garrick.”
“He saw me two weeks ago.”
“And Kairo.” Harold finally turned to his prize. Oh, dear. He was a little short. The top of his head reached her bosom. Mal and Roh had to look away from each other to keep from laughing.
As if to emphasize the fact, Kairo seemed to blossom, standing proud and erect to her full height. Her hair fluffed out and her cheekbones were at their most magnificent. She was amazing.
“You are amazing, my dear.” Harold’s voice had just the right blend of confidence and awe. Surely that would please Kairo.
“I want you to know that I suffer no illusions. My poor country was able to contract for you only because of mankind’s perverse
nature. I am sure no one else bid because they never believed in their wildest dreams they could afford you!”
Kairo maintained her aloof posture, but King Harold had said the one perfect thing to soothe her wounded sensibilities.
“I have done everything to make your experience comfortable and satisfying, fair play? I have studied the hieros gamos and the kamasutra and trained in Kabbalah and tantra. I’ve chanted mantra and laid down yantra, and made ready to give you every pleasure you desire.” Now Mal wondered if Harold wasn’t pulling someone’s leg, though he had every appearance of sincerity.
Kairo had gone from red to purple.
“And now let’s drink a toast to our Triune Contract, and we’ll be off.” Harold motioned to his people who poured out a thick brown liquid into great crystal tankards. “We’re traveling in the Angel’s Harp, the most comfortable airship in the world, if I say so myself.”
“King Harold, this is a treat.” Sister Jordana wasn’t being polite as she accepted a mug of the brown stuff. She was absolutely salivating.
“You too, my dear.” Harold handed Mallory a full tankard that smelled of yeast and alcohol. “It’s medicinal for someone at your stage. Brings in the milk they say.” His face went red again. “Not that that is your concern.”
When he was sure everyone had been served, he lifted his tankard. “Sláinte! The Triune Contract!”
“The Triune Contract!” Everyone answered, King Harold’s guards with robust enthusiasm.
Mal examined her glass dubiously, and Harriet said, “It’s beer. They call it stout. It’s quite all right for you to drink.”
“Ack.” The dark liquid was warm and bitter. “Exgusting.”
Sister Jordana had stepped out of the circle to speak with a messenger, and Mal followed her. “I don’t want Nin to lose her apartment. Pay for it out of my account, and I’d like to keep the arrangement quiet.”
Sister Jordana’s eyes flashed a deep blue and she smiled. “The same as with Harriet’s inheritance? Certainly, your highness.”
Picnic
About a year after Kairo first went to Hibernia, there was a week when all the hubbies were in residence at Red City. It had been ten months since Mal delivered Garrick’s counselor. Nin was in robust health, and as she had hoped to, she now worked with Sister Marin.