by Moira Sutton
“I suppose it could be no other,” he said quietly, though the idea of the dress that marked his first vision of her being worn for someone like Toric made his blood boil.
“I’m not wearing it for him,” Zoa said, folding the dress back into its sandalwood box. “I’m wearing it to make a better future for us, one that Toric can never touch.” And with that, she walked over to the bed and bent down, kissing him slow and sweet. Jeric gasped at the touch, his hands going up to tangle in her dark hair.
“For the first time, I know exactly what I desire,” Zoa whispered against his lips. “It’s this, what we have right now, and I won’t let anything keep me from it. Not the emperor, not a rebellion and certainly not Toric. He has no power over any of us and I will never let him shadow me, or what we have, ever again.”
“I know you won’t,” Jeric whispered back. “Our desires are the same, Zoa. You, me and Izar.” His face broke into a grin. “Toric won’t know what hit him.”
Zoa looked up at him with her heart in her eyes, and then she kissed him deeply. Jeric pulled her against him, his hands sliding over her body. They were rolling on the bed by the time the food arrived, and though as Avatars of Dezira they had absolutely no cause to stop for the acolytes’ sake, they pulled apart. First, they were hungry, but mostly it just wasn’t the same without Izar.
“We’re spoiled,” Zoa said, popping a plum into her mouth.
“Beautifully so,” Jeric answered, taking one for himself.
They laughed then, and the tension in the room broke as they sat back to wait for their beloved captain.
* * * * *
Izar joined them a half hour later, his charming face lit up with a sly grin. “Luck smiles on us,” he said, tossing a large piece of paper on the bed where they were sitting. Jeric’s hand got there before Zoa’s, but he held it out so they could both see it was a hand-drawn map of a large palace. It was more like a rough sketch than a draftsman’s work, but it was detailed and covered with Izar’s handwriting.
“Couldn’t get an actual map on such short notice,” Izar said, helping himself to the laid-out food. “But Emperor Vallus has been haunting his cousin’s house for years. There are several of the Imperial Guard who’ve had to drag him out of there over his reign, and so we put our heads together and worked out a rough layout, as well as the emperor’s likely location.”
“Handy,” Jeric said, tracing his finger through the house until he came to the place where Izar had written VALLUS, a large antechamber on the third floor. “Are you sure he’s here?”
“Sure as I can be,” Izar said. “As I said, even before his current stay, he was at his cousin’s a lot. It looks like Toric just gave him his own apartments, probably to keep the old windbag out of his hair and out of trouble. From what the guards say, Toric himself keeps to the main part of the house.” He reached over and tapped a large hall on the bottom floor.
Zoa licked her lips. “If they’re separated, that makes things easier.” She pointed to the front gate, marked with several of the little Xs that represented guards. “Since I can claim official temple business, I’ll go in through the front. Toric won’t be able to resist gloating over the fact that I’ve come to ask him to stop whatever he’s doing. That, plus what I’ve got to say to Toric, should keep him busy for at least an hour.”
Izar nodded. “Meanwhile, Jeric and I can go in through the kitchen gate. We’ll get upstairs, grab Vallus, and be out before Toric knows we’re there.”
Zoa frowned. “I don’t know if I can distract him enough for you to get a guard squad to the third floor without him knowing.”
Izar scowled, and Jeric, catching his captain’s eye, picked up from there. “We’re not bringing a guard squad,” he said quietly. “This is an act of treason. We’re going directly against the emperor’s order. With that in mind, the fewer people involved, the better we’ll be. Izar and I will go in alone.”
Zoa stared at him.
“I’ll have my men outside,” Izar said, picking up where Jeric left off. “The second we’re out, the emperor will be safely bundled off to his own palace and order will be restored. Well, as much order as old Vallus can bring, anyway. But we have to do this quickly, quietly and secretly. According to the Legion Commander, Toric has spies everywhere. I don’t dare risk telling anyone our plans except you two, Silas and my own men that I brought down from the north.”
Zoa shook her head. “I don’t like the idea of you two going in without support.”
“And I don’t like the idea of you facing Toric,” Izar said, walking over to caress her face. “But none of us will be alone, will we? We’ll all be in the stewpot together.”
Zoa leaned into his hand, but then her face drew into a frown. “Even if you two are the only ones going for the emperor, what about the Sun’s Chosen? Your map doesn’t show him at all.”
“He’ll have to wait,” Izar said, biting into a fig. “The emperor is our primary target. If Toric has any sense, he’s keeping the Avatar of Solus sedated in a vault chained under as much metal as he can find, though even that might not be enough if half what I’ve heard about the Sun’s Chosen is true. Still, we can’t waste the time looking for him.”
“I’m sure the Avatar will be fine,” Jeric said, dropping a hand to Zoa’s back.
“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” Zoa said. “Don’t forget, Toric cast a huge spell not five days ago, shortly after the Avatar vanished into his palace. I know you’ll both be careful, you didn’t survive the Northern Front by being fools, but…” Her voice began to wobble and Zoa stopped for a deep breath. “Please, take care. Toric is not to be underestimated.”
“We won’t underestimate a man that dangerous,” Izar said, grinning as he leaned down to kiss her. “We’ll watch each other’s backs. The Emperor will be out before you know it.”
Zoa smiled. Izar’s kiss tasted of fig. His body was warm above hers, while Jeric’s hand was solid and comforting on her back. Sometimes, overwhelmed by what they could do as lovers, she half forgot her men were experienced soldiers as well. Clever, resourceful men used to bad odds. Now, freshly reminded of Izar’s cleverness and bravery as well as Jeric’s steadfast loyalty and calm, she felt a sudden confidence that these men could do anything, beat anyone, even Toric. That thought made her relax for the first time since they’d arrived in the city and she leaned into Jeric’s arm as Izar broke away to finish his plate.
They ate a while longer, studying the sketched map and talking over their plans again before Zoa suddenly stopped cold.
“Oh goddess,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Wait, this won’t work at all.”
“What?” said Jeric and Izar together.
Zoa spread her hand out over the map. “This is Toric’s palace. He’s a powerful dark moon Chosen who’s been gathering strength for weeks, maybe longer. That whole place is bound to be steeped in his power. I didn’t even think about it since Jeric and I are immune, but the lust in there is going to be crippling for anyone not bound to Dezira.” She looked at Izar. “You’ll be on the floor and out of your mind the second you step inside.”
The captain frowned. “That is a problem.”
Jeric bit his lip. “Maybe you could wait while I—”
“No,” Izar said, cutting him off. “You’re not going in alone.” He leaned back and looked at them. “Is there a way I can avoid it? A spell of protection or something like that?”
Zoa licked her lips. “There is a way, but it’s not perfect and the price is high.” She glanced at Jeric. “We could bind you.”
“Bind me?” Izar said. Jeric looked confused as well.
Zoa reached out and lay a hand on Jeric’s shoulder. “We are protected from Toric’s power by Dezira’s claim. The Moon does not tolerate others meddling with her Own. In the same way, Avatars of Dezira can claim others, placing them under their protection. It’s not nearly so strong as the goddess’s bond. Honestly, I alone wouldn’t be enough to protect yo
u from a strong dark moon like Toric. But if Jeric and I both bound you, especially with the barriers Jeric has been able to create, it might be enough to shelter you from Toric’s lust.”
“Sounds fantastic,” Izar said, his handsome face breaking into a boyish grin. “What’s the price?”
“Dezira’s bonds are permanent,” Zoa said. “Once we’ve bound you, you’ll be tied to us until you die.”
She let the words drift into silence, but Izar only arched an eyebrow. “And?”
“And forever is forever,” Zoa said. “This is deep magic, Izar. It’s like the bond that forms when one Avatar brings another into power, but even more invasive. You’ll be able to feel us all the time, whether you like it or not, but we won’t be able to feel you. Our power will shelter you from the influence of other Avatars, especially Dezira’s Chosen, but you’ll be seen by other Chosen as…” She trailed off, her face pulling down in a worried frown. “Well, not a slave exactly, but definitely something stronger than a servant. Any attempts against you will be seen as attempts against us and any words you speak will be said in our name. You will be mostly immune to magic other than our own, but our magic will hit you harder than ever.”
“I’m still waiting for the bad part,” Izar said, grinning wider than ever.
Zoa sighed and cast about, trying to find a way to explain to the exasperating captain that she was not doing him a favor in this, but before she could think of anything, Izar had walked over and knelt down on the floor before her and Jeric, one hand on each of their legs.
“I don’t even see how this could be a question,” he said softly. “We are already bonded by something stronger than mere magic. Even your Silas saw it. The three of us are so tangled together now that no power in the world could rip us apart. You two are bound by your goddess to live as you desire, but my only desire from the first night I had you has been to never lose that paradise. Now you tell me you want to bind me deeper, so my only question is why do you hesitate? Even if the bond did nothing for me, I would take it gladly, because all I want for the rest of my life is to keep you two close. I will tie you tight to me in whatever I can, and if you want to be the ones who provide the rope, then I’ll be the last complain.”
His grip tightened on Zoa’s leg, and from the way his knuckles whitened on Jeric’s, she knew Izar was gripping him just as hard. “I love you both,” he said fiercely. “And I will never, ever let you go. So bind me, spell me, truss me up, I don’t care. The other Chosen can call me your dog all they like, but nothing’s going to stop me from staying by your side.”
Zoa closed her eyes and dropped her head, kissing Izar on the top of his head with a joyful prayer of thanks to the goddess for blessing her with such a man. Two such men, for Jeric was kissing Izar too, and then her, and then grabbing them both and pulling them against himself. She hugged both her lovers so tight she thought their ribs would crack. And then, reluctantly, she broke away and rang the bell for the acolytes.
“We don’t have much time,” she said, turning back to them. “The ceremony is simple, but we must all be purified first. Jeric, you stay with me, I’ll teach you what to do. Izar, they’ll take you to the ritual baths. It might seem like a lot of fuss, but it is necessary if you’re going to be pleasing in Dezira’s sight.
“Don’t see how it could be so bad,” Izar said. “I enjoy a bath.”
“You’ve never had a bath like this,” Zoa said with a grin as the acolyte entered. She winked at Izar and then turned to tell the acolyte to prepare for a binding ceremony. The young woman’s eyes went wide, but as Zoa was a Chosen, the acolyte obeyed without question, taking Izar’s hand and leading him away down the hall.
As they left, Zoa took Jeric and led him in the other direction toward the Chosens’ private bath, talking the whole way about what must be done. Jeric, serious as ever, listened carefully and gave his own opinions. By the time the acolytes arrived, they had the beginnings of an excellent plan.
An hour later, everything was ready. Despite the cold, the weather was fine, and Zoa had decided to hold the ceremony in the temple garden. The garden was the holiest place of the white moons, an apex of power older even than the temple itself. For all that, though, it didn’t look like much. There were no paths or beds of exotic flowers. Instead, the garden was a field at the rear of the temple complex, modeled like the one from Dezira’s visions, and at its highest point was an ancient apple tree, Dezira’s most sacred plant. Beneath the apple tree was a small platform paved in pure-white marble. On top of it, a large, white silk pad had been laid out like a bed. Above it, the acolytes had hung sacred incense in burners from the tree’s branches, now bare for winter. Even so, the power of the place vibrated like a drum as Zoa, Jeric and Silas walked across the grass.
“You’re sure about this?” Silas said, his voice low. “A single binding is one thing, but the two of you, binding the same—”
“I am absolutely sure,” Zoa said, turning to glare at him. “We’re all grown people here, Silas. Jeric and I are Chosen, we know what we desire, but more importantly, Izar has chosen this as well. His is the only opinion that matters, for his life is the one being bound. I told him the truth, the whole truth, and if he is still willing to go through with the ceremony, then I will not insult him by asking more questions.”
Silas made an angry noise. “On your heads be it, then.” He stopped at the edge of the white square. This was a place sacred to the white moon, and just as Zoa could not set foot on the black moon altar at the temple’s lowest point, so Silas was forbidden from stepping on the pure-white stone below the apple tree. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Zoa,” he muttered.
Zoa smiled. “I do, Silas,” she said, reaching out to pull Jeric close. “For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I desire.”
Silas gave her a tight nod and turned on his heel, marching in ground eating strides back toward the temple. As he vanished from view, Jeric let out the breath he’d been holding. “Are all dark moons so overbearing?”
“Oh, no,” Zoa said. “Silas is much better than most. That’s why he’s the head of the temple. He’s had hundreds of years to learn to control and tact.”
Jeric made a face. “If that’s him with control and tact, I’d hate to think what he was like before.” He glanced slid sideways to Zoa. “Did you ever…”
“What?” Zoa said, grinning wickedly. “Sleep with him? No, thank Dezira. He can rein himself in for the temple and in public, even be the perfect image of the calm and wise leader if things get serious enough, but only a fool would think that Silas was anything other than what he is. He is a dark moon of the Lady, a powerful Chosen who knows exactly what he desires, and he’s willing to squeeze people until he gets it. He doesn’t sleep with white moons at all anymore. He says we break too easily.”
Jeric’s expression went from curious to horrified, and Zoa laughed aloud, reaching out to straighten the white silk of his robe where it sat across his broad shoulders. When she had it arranged, she reached up and brushed her forehead. The white moon flared to life, beautiful and bright even in the direct winter sun. Jeric did so as well, revealing a moon even whiter than her own. Zoa smiled and stood on tiptoe, brushing a kiss to his lips.
“Remember,” she said. “We are no longer merely ourselves now, but Chosen of Dezira. What happens from here out happens in the Lady’s name. Are you prepared, Jeric, Chosen of the Moon?”
Jeric nodded, his face as serious as her own. “As I ever will be, Zoa, marked as the Moon’s Own.”
Zoa nodded and took his hand, leading him to stand beneath the apple tree before the white cushion laid at its base as a procession appeared at the garden gate.
It was a small affair, four acolytes dressed in pure white, white moons painted on their foreheads in mimicry of the Chosen. They walked slowly, with their eyes downcast, for they were merely trappings in this ceremony. The true focus walked between them.
Izar stood at the middle of the acolyte gro
up. Like them, he was dressed in a plain robe of white cotton. His feet were bare, his golden hair freshly washed and dancing in the slight breeze. As he drew closer, Zoa took a deep breath, drawing in the power that hummed through the garden.
At once, the winter chill broke. Warm air, sweet as summer and filled with the smell of apple blossoms rose up around them, driving away winter’s bite. Izar relaxed visibly as he entered the circle of magical warmth, but it was a different heat that entered his eyes when the acolytes led him onto the white altar before the Chosen, a deep burning fire that had nothing to do with summer magic.
Zoa smiled. After being their lover for close to two months now, Izar was better than most mortals at shaking off the natural lust that accompanied all of Dezira’s magic, but even that familiarity couldn’t guard him from this. As he stepped onto the white stone, Zoa and Jeric called their magic, circling the tree, the altar and the beloved man before them with deep, braided coils.
Even the acolytes felt it, but they were well trained. They did not so much as flinch when the magic hit them, but bowed and retreated as quietly as they had come, leaving the three of them alone below the tree on the high hill, looking out over the city below.
Zoa took a deep breath. She’d never performed this ritual before, never even seen it performed, but like all trained Chosen, she knew the words by heart and her heart was in them as she spoke.
“Beloved,” she said. “You come into the Lady’s power to be bound to the Lady’s service. A bond of love, desire and protection as deep and abiding as the earth itself. Is this what you wish?”
“Yes,” Izar said. The word was barely more than a breath, and for a moment, Zoa was afraid the lust from being so close to two Avatars both working their magic was clouding his thinking. That was no good. Izar’s mind had to be fully his own for the ritual to work. But as he lifted his head, Zoa saw Izar’s eyes were clear, strikingly so, and they only got clearer as Jeric began to speak.