Xiang walked quietly a step behind. Clad in black, with the soot and gore of battle still on her hands, she was not at all what he normally allowed within smelling distance. Luckily his perfume disguised much of her odor.
“I like that the Heraklos have been blamed. And I also appreciate that I now have an adequate excuse for removing some of these foreigners from my city. I have gained what I want from them. But, do not mistake me. I know your motives, Xiang. Consider this the end of your small acts of terror against Dankyo. Nothing further. We are too close to the end gambit.”
“There.” He set the bird on a vacant branch and stepped back, smiling. The little thing chirruped and hopped to a higher branch. “Are they arriving soon?”
“Yes, Your Serenity.”
“Good. When she solves my warrior’s puzzle, you may have the man, and we will both be happy. Will you bed him or kill him?”
“I will torture him. It is what I need to do.”
“Ah. Good.” When three birds on one branch broke into song together, he clapped his hands. “Excellent. Nothing like a surfeit of torture to enhance your day. It may not be my route to happiness, but it has always been yours. And I always reward my servants.
He pointed at a spot at the opposite end of the terrace, and waggled his finger. “You know, I do believe that will be the place for this replica I’m getting tomorrow. To the right of my throne.” The gold-plated throne gleamed. The enormous silver wall behind it fanned out like a latticework shell. On days when the anger swarmed through him like bees on a rampage, the wall was convenient for attaching annoying people to. Most of them survived the experience.
“And the woman?” Xiang asked.
He examined her. A long pistol was sheathed in a holster slung low and strapped to her thigh. The red blipping light on the side meant the charge was zero. Good. Her hand draped over the bronze-riveted butt. The tendons along the back stood out stark, like little bones under the skin. How close all humanity was to being skeletons, to being dead. Her hand twitched, once.
Tsk. His assassin had her foibles. He’d never seen her show such…interest, as she had in these two.
“You want her too? We shall see. We will decide when the choice is before us.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
For three days they’d stayed at the compound with a heavy detachment of palace guards to enhance security. Men needed to be evacuated or sent to hospital. The buildings had to be repaired and shored up. Dankyo and Henry conferred, discussed things, and information was gathered. She’d thought, hoped, they could go straight to the palace. The stress of staying in a place where so many had recently died hobbled her chances of her doing the last calculations. She’d tried and done some, but ended up nauseated and with a pounding headache. When someone tried to poison the kitchen supplies, her nerves had frayed even more.
Praying for the souls of the dead hadn’t helped, and neither had praying for Dankyo.
Though Dankyo showed no sure outside signs of problems, not everyone wore their emotions outwardly. He would have to be one of those least likely to do so. Sex had become nonexistent, and that was so unlike him. And when he slept, the nightmares plagued him.
She’d almost woken him properly, to ask him what caused them, but each night she’d drawn back, hand trembling.
I’m such a chicken. I have to ask him. But not now. They had arrived. And what an arrival. Sofia smiled. This gave her the willies?
The bed in their room at the palace was large enough to take a small elephant. A quilt spread across like a sea of aquamarine with green flecks. On the wall beyond was a wide mural of an orgy in some flower-swathed grove. Half-animal gods or demons ravished fair maidens. One maiden, her hair spilling out in frothy curls, lay sprawled on her back on an altar, her hands and ankles secured by red ropes.
Sofia padded over to the mural and ran her palm over the cool tiles. Then she drew back and peered. From here, the red tiles seemed more blood than rope.
Ugh. Either the artist was awful or the scene was.
Another wall of the room was closed in by a bank of carved doors. Dankyo unlocked the gold handle. He slowly folded back the doors, revealing a blue sky bright enough to make her squint, though on the horizon heavy storm clouds were building. Past the doors, and a shaded alcove, the stone floor merged with a small lake. A breeze tickled the surface. Ripples arrowed from the center toward the near shore. Did something live in there? There was a little island, and on a far bank, topiary trees and shrubs screened the lake.
Paradise.
The palace was so wrapped in guards and security that nothing short of a small—no make that a large—war would break through. Safe. She inhaled and smiled.
There was a desk for her to work at, servants to bring food, and she could relax until the day she unveiled the secret. No need to be a slave if she didn’t leave the room. Only Tansu and one other trusted servant were to be allowed to attend them. No need to wear this travesty of palest mauve that, yet again, allowed those who wished to count her pubic hairs and the number of freckles on her backside.
Once the bags had been deposited on the tiles of the lounge area, the servants left her and Dankyo alone.
Feeling trepidation prickle her, she joined Dankyo where he stood before the lake in his gray shirt and darker gray trousers. He was impassive, staring out as if lost in thought, and dressed as somberly as the clouds on the horizon.
The collar could go. She reached up to undo the buckle.
“What are you doing?”
Startled, she paused. “What?” He’d barely looked at her. “I don’t have to pretend here, so I’m taking this off.” She fiddled with the buckle. “I’m not actually your slave, remember?” Stupid, why did she even bother explaining to him, when here he was standing next to her stony-faced and almost ignoring her?
“No. You’re not. Though I wouldn’t trust security here completely. You may remove it for a short while.” He met her gaze. “Let me do that.”
He brushed aside her fingers and took his time undoing the buckle, so she had to stand, waiting, while he breathed down on her. This close, he affected her. She half closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell a little faster, though she tried not to let it show.
The leather fell away, only to be replaced by his hand, half circling her neck, callouses rasping on her. When his lips brushed the hollow between neck and collarbone, she sighed.
This is so idiotic, melting like jelly, now. She tilted her neck away only to have him slide his arms across below her breasts and hold her to him until her body was perfectly snug against his.
“Dankyo…” She swallowed the roughness in her throat. “We need to talk.”
“Yes.”
She turned in his arms. For once his feelings showed front and center—a crease marked the center of his forehead.
“I know.” His hand swallowed hers, and he drew her to the edge of the flagstones. Matter-of-factly he rolled up the legs of his trousers, then sat with his feet immersed in the lake water. “Here.” He patted the warm stone. The collar lay there innocent and black near his hand.
Something dark, and as long as a human, swam in the water. At the front end, nostrils surfaced. The V of disturbed water headed for a little beach of sand to the left.
“What is that? Pull your feet up!”
“It’s okay, Sofia. I was told there are a few clockwork creatures here. They clean up any clockies that land. They won’t bite you. The groundkeeper comes daily to tend to them.”
“Oh. I see.” When the creature emerged and waddled onto the beach, she cautiously sat next to Dankyo and let her feet dip in the water.
The thing gleamed—four legs, greenish metal scales, a long, thick tail, and when it swung to stare at her, she spotted rows of steel teeth. Lord, she wasn’t patting that one. “A clockwork crocodile? I’m glad we didn’t bring Zigzag.”
Henry was taking care of Zigzag because they’d been afraid his clockie parts would mean security quarantining h
im, or worse, destroying him.
“Yes. It would have eaten him.”
The lake water was cool and clear. Past some floating weeds, a few feet down, she could see the rocks and sand on the bottom. A tiny fish flicked past. Not that she was going to swim in there, even if the island in the middle did have a neatly mowed lawn and a white gazebo. How did they mow out there?
She shook her head, dismissing the question.
“So”—she swirled her feet and watched the bubbles—“what have you decided?” It felt odd taking the initiative and talking first.
His hands curled over the edge of the stone, and every few moments he flexed his fingers. Such a large man and so used to taking charge, yet he seemed off-balance. Well, she wasn’t giving up, even if he’d turned to damn concrete, again. She put her hand over his. “What is it?”
He shook his head so slightly she might have missed it.
“What?” Now he stops talking again? This was so frustrating. Here, when finally she could be herself, and finally she felt safe, he withdrew into his shell? He could give a tortoise lessons in hiding.
Maybe it was time to poke. Pretending to be a slave all that time had stopped her being her. “Cat got your tongue? There are a lot of words in the English language. We can’t talk if you don’t use any. Pick some, and I’ll tell you if they’re any good.” Nothing moved apart from a line shifting beside his mouth. “Bunny? No? Fluffy slippers? Cabbages? Damn it all, please, say something.”
“Okay.” The deep growl of his voice surprised her. He glanced at her. “Dead. Is that a good word for you, Sofia? A lot of men died.”
“Oh.” So that was it. Her stomach sank.
“But, I can survive that. My job has involved seeing men die for many years.” He grasped her hand, took it to his mouth, and kissed it. “What I can’t handle is the possibility of seeing you die.”
Where was this going? “I don’t plan on dying any time soon, Sir.” She didn’t exactly want to hear what he might say next, because it seemed likely to be an excruciating answer. His grip on her hand tightened. “Is this…is this going to be logical? I mean, you said you couldn’t bear to ever let me go. Which, I really liked the sound of. But now, I get the impression that if someone offered to take me far, far away, you’d jump up and down waving and cheering.”
The smile he turned on her lifted her heart enough that she smiled back.
“No. It’s not that bad, not yet. I’m fighting myself here, woman. I want you with me, and yet…do you want the truth?”
Those eyes. Daring her, questioning—she could see him trying to read her.
“Um. No, and yes. Now I’ve got your disease. But, yes. Tell me. I always need the truth. I’ve had enough lies from people to put me off falsehood.” Except truth can hurt a lot. She’d have bitten her nails if he wasn’t watching.
“Very well. When I think of having you live with me, I feel wrong.” One corner of his mouth quirked, and he shrugged. “That is it. It’s just a feeling.”
Wrong? I make him feel wrong? The knowledge twisted up inside her. Tears threatened to arrive. She hung her head. “How romantic.” Bitterness crept in. Well, that was the truth, and now she felt ill. “I think, until you figure that out, we should stay just friends.”
Impulsively she stood and announced, “I’m going for a swim.”
The clockwork things here wouldn’t bite. The water was shallow and warm, and Dankyo was in a suit. The stupid clothes she wore would dry in an instant. He was not going to see her cry.
“Sofia. Stop!”
She heard annoyance in that tone. Well, it served him right, he could go…go be all sad and disgusting by himself. Anger gave her courage. The stupid crocodile thing was harmless, right?
She launched herself into the water and struck out for the island. She gasped. The deeper water was frigid. The liquid sliding over her skin shocked her into a higher level of alertness. She did breaststroke, feeling like she’d changed from a woman into a frog. The fine material of her tunic and pants barely dragged at all.
Then slowly, as her fury faded, awareness of her vulnerability crept in. What if he was wrong? What if the thing bit? You never knew what was under the water. Even clear water went all fuzzy when it was disturbed. Look! I have to look.
It was there still, flaked out on the beach. Probably purring, or whatever crocodiles did, happily warming its springs and cogwheels.
There might be two. She swam faster.
After the initial shouted words, Dankyo had said nothing.
When she reached the island, she went to her knees where the lake lapped on the sand, and planted her palms. Nothing had eaten her. A few inches from her nose, three orange clockwork fish rocked in the waves, sloshing back and forth. She’d stay here until all the anger had gone away and she could forgive him. And until she grew some courage.
Sofia twisted her lip and sucked on it. So maybe a few centuries here, then?
After crawling onto the sweet-smelling lawn, she turned over and leaned on her elbows. Water pooled on her belly button and stuck the tunic to her skin. She shivered despite the sun’s rays warming her, then looked back.
As if he was doing something he did every day, Dankyo was undressing, folding his clothes, then placing them in a pile to one side.
Oh lord.
HELL AND TARNATION. When Sofia stood up, ignored his words, and dived into the lake, it had been as if somebody had poured a beaker of icy water into his head. All the complicated sad and ugly thoughts swishing around in there had been washed away, instantly.
His vision crystal clear, and his cock hardening by the second, he’d watched her swim off. She’d even flipped once and dived beneath the surface. Her bottom, glimpsed for a moment, had been perfectly outlined by the cloth. Totally see-through. The globes of her ass looked so biteable, and the crevice between made him imagine shoving his hand there.
Strange how this had just put the final seal on his feelings.
Any woman who reveled in swimming enough to get her hair wet, and who was impulsive enough to dive into a lake with a clockwork crocodile, was the woman for him. Sure, he’d told her the creature was safe, but this was a whole other level of feistiness. Sofia was crazy, but the right sort of crazy for him.
He slipped off his shoes, then the rest of his attire, and put everything aside. Standing there, naked beneath the sun, made him feel like roaring and being all male. He put his hand on his erection. It had ideas already.
And she’d taunted him. He smiled. Time to finish off this talk. If anything, he knew her too well. Sofia had buttons he could press. She’d gone off without thinking. He’d explain where she’d gone wrong, and then he’d figure out what to do with her. Perhaps Henry’s new toys would be appropriate?
He squatted, rummaged in his coat pockets, and found them. Then he wrapped them round his biceps.
He did a shallow dive, and cruised underwater for a while, delighting in the way the coolness caressed his muscles, and then he set off for the island. Each precise stroke pulled him closer to her and gave him time for more ideas. But first, he had to explain, had to sort things out.
Sand squished between his toes when he walked from the water. Sofia said nothing while he loomed over her, dripping. She was sitting in the wet sand, her legs out to the side, head bowed while she played with some clockwork goldfish. He went closer, until the front of his ankles touched her thigh and his feet were under her. He dripped on her and waited.
The little mechanical chrr chrr chrr sounds made him wonder what she was up to.
“Sofia?”
Her shoulders slumped, and she stopped whatever she was doing with the fish. “Do you have to drip on me? You know, I was hoping to get some alone time out here.”
He grimaced. She was indeed annoyed. All the better to prod her even more. Some fire had been lit inside him. Certainty guided him. She’d not get away from him this time. Time to knock his woman off her pedestal again.
“What are you doing
?”
After a moment, she explained, “Winding up the goldfish. See.” She let go of the one she held. The tail wriggled, and the fish shot off into deeper water. “You just turn the body round and round. Clever. No key needed. Now will you go?” She waited, head down, not looking at him.
He nudged her with his foot. “We haven’t finished our talk.”
“Sure we have. You told me I made you feel wrong. I get the message. Now go. Get your sandy foot off me.”
The itch to grab her was strong. He resisted. “You asked me for the truth. I gave it to you. Then you swam off without letting me explain.”
“You were being a grumpy bastard.”
Hell. He held in the laughter. “I agree. I was. I had my reasons. Good ones. And you still should have let me explain. You can’t ask for the truth and then run away.”
“It hurt.” Now she glanced up, and he saw the moisture running along her eyelids.
He squatted. “I know. But, you need to understand I’m fighting it, and I won’t be leaving you.”
Sofia picked up another fish, sniffed, then rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “When I make someone feel bad, it makes me think we don’t fit together.”
“I understand. I do. But I’ve figured out why I feel this way, and I’m not letting you go. Do you understand that?”
She just shook her head.
This was like navigating an airship through thick fog. How did he get her to understand? Having her leave him, having her walled off when he needed her in his life so much…not happening.
“Remember our agreement while we’re here in Byzantium? That has not been rescinded.” She stiffened. She remembered, then. And said nothing. Maybe he needed to push? “Remember?”
Slow yet sure, he put his hand to the back of her head and collected her hair as if he were about to start a ponytail. He kept talking as he wound it round and round. “Answer me, Sofia, because if you don’t, I’m going to turn your wet little ass red.”
Was this the right way? If she denied him, and there was that chance, something inside him would break.
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