On Azrael's Wings

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  Chewing her upper lip, the brunette’s heart sped at the sound of women chattering inside. Ursula swallowed and stepped inside. The entry was half a circle with doorways on both sides and a private hall at its apex. There were actually two entries from the great hall, Ursula standing on the left of a gurgling pool and fountain that the doors flanked. Peering closely, Ursula saw there was a little shrine in the wall above the fountain; a shelf held an incense brazier and several clay depictions of the gods. Despite her unease, the slave reached out, letting water trickle across her fingers before brushing their wetness across her lips.

  Homage to the gods paid, Ursula straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. It was time to meet the other body slaves of her mistress. The voices were to her left and she moved the curtain at that door aside to step in. There were two more doorways, the curtains tied to one side and Ursula saw her future companions in the one furthest away.

  The two women were as different as night and day in an almost literal sense. One, a buxom woman, was golden in color, her wavy strawberry blonde hair piled in a mass above her head. Blue-black hair fell in a straight line down the back of the other, carefully tied at intervals to prevent tangling as she helped her companion tighten the muslin sheet on their mistress’ bed.

  “Did you see her?” the blonde asked, her voice as honeyed as her skin. “I swear she barely had time for a kiss hello before Jastus came rushing in from the fields.”

  Nodding, the black haired one said, “Yes, I saw. I doubt she’ll have much time for us for a few days.” She plumped a pillow and arranged it neatly. “More’s the pity. I wonder if Milady went to Raston this season.”

  The blonde smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure Milady will tell you. She promised to see your family if they were there.” Brilliant green eyes widened as she noted the new arrival. “Hello. Can I help you?” As her companion turned she came around the side of the bed and approached.

  With a gulp, the brunette found her voice. “I am Ursula,” she said, curtseying. “Our mistress instructed me to come and help prepare her quarters.” She flushed under their sudden sharp gaze.

  “A new body slave?” the dark woman asked, stepping forward. “Midia didn’t mention you.”

  “Midia wasn’t mentioning anything, I’d wager,” the blonde said with a grin. “Jastus wouldn’t let her talk.” Her smile widened and she came forward, taking the newcomer’s hands. “My name is Felicia and this is Vincenza. It’s good to meet you.”

  “Thank you,” Ursula said, her voice low. She ducked her head at the intent gazes from her new companions, wondering if she’d get past the blush that threatened to inflame her skin. “It’s good to meet you, as well. Midia has told me wonderful things about you.”

  Vincenza glided closer. “How long have you been with our mistress?” she asked.

  “Three months.” Ursula raised her chin, forcing herself to meet the dark woman’s cool gaze. It occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one to feel the bite of jealousy when it came to Azrael. Wondering how things would proceed between them, she continued, “I was taken in the last village where our mistress... fought.”

  Nodding thoughtfully, Vincenza’s eyes studied Ursula, their color as black as their mistress’.

  “Then you’re quite new, aren’t you?” Felicia asked, taking the brunette’s arm. “Were you a body slave before?”

  Ursula shook her head. “No, I was the slave of the local seamstress.”

  The blonde grinned. “Quite a difference, is it not?” At Ursula’s answering nod, she continued. “You’ve come just in time. We still need to refresh Lady Azrael’s private hall and sweep out the old rushes.” Felicia drew the newcomer along, guiding her out into the suite’s entry once more.

  Behind them, Vincenza followed silently.

  In the private hall across from the fountain, the air smelled of brittle rushes long dried out. Felicia scooped up a rough broom and handed it to Ursula. “Why don’t you sweep the old ones into a corner while Vincenza gets new rushes?” the blonde suggested. “I’ll set to dusting.”

  Ursula took the broom. “Of course.”

  Felicia gave her companion a significant look and the dark woman left on her errand. As she gathered up a rag from a cleaning basket, she said, “Please don’t mind Vincenza. She can be rather... intense at times. She means nothing by it.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t,” Ursula agreed, bent to her task as she used the broom to tease rushes out from beneath a heavy desk.

  “We’re very protective of our mistress.”

  Ursula nodded. “As we should be.”

  The blonde paused to look at Ursula for a long moment. “Once we’re through here, I’ll take you to Brahim. He’ll assign you a room in the slaves’ quarters.”

  Blinking, Ursula stopped her chore and said, “I was to help you and Vincenza prepare the extra bedchambers here for me.”

  Felicia froze, green eyes wide as she regarded the blushing woman before her. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and tried once more. “The extra bedchambers?” she repeated.

  “Yes.” The brunette returned to chewing her upper lip at Felicia’s obvious surprise, Brahim’s shock multiplied the blonde’s response. Unable to help herself, she dropped her eyes and reddened.

  “Well, then,” Felicia finally said, “the extra bedchambers it shall be.”

  As the blonde returned to her task, Ursula did as well. She heard the woman’s murmur as clear as day.

  “Midia’s certainly has much to tell us about this campaign.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  They’d been at it for hours, rehashing past messages, gleaning finer details from written words, discussing smaller items such as new babes or romances in the slaves’ quarters.

  “What of these disconcerting rumors I’m hearing?” Azrael asked. She lounged comfortably in a chair inside her steward’s private chambers, flagon of wine close to hand.

  Brahim tugged at his mustaches, frowning. “Aye, Milady. The rumors.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve heard them; most of us have. The King has been kind enough to not make a personal visit though his royal guard occasionally comes through in their travels, seeking billeting.” The steward leaned forward to top off his mug. “It’s believed they’re only here to gather information about you.”

  Azrael sighed, frowning. “You’ve been at court, Brahim,” she said. “You know the manner of people there. What credence should I give this?”

  There was a long silence as Brahim chose his words. Azrael didn’t press, knowing her steward tended toward diplomacy much more than herself. He would say what needed saying tactfully but he’d never withhold information.

  “Beware, Milady,” he said, reluctance in every line of his weathered face. “Someone close to King Shonal bears you ill will and would like nothing better than for your death or disgrace.”

  Leaning forward, resting one elbow on the arm of her chair, Azrael asked, “Do you know who it is, Brahim?”

  Accustomed to his mistress’ intensity, the old man didn’t flinch from her glare. “No, Milady. It is said that since his coronation Shonal has surrounded himself with youths and dandies. His mother, Queen Gerina, dotes on him just as she did when you were children.”

  Azrael experienced a flash of memory, a summer day at her uncle’s estate. She and her cousin had gotten into a disagreement over some childish thing and fell to fisticuffs. Her father and uncle had watched from a distance but didn’t interfere, knowing their children needed to work things out between themselves. The scuffle had ended when Shonal’s mother caught sight of them from her bedchambers. Shrieking like a siren, she had rushed out onto the terrace and demanded they stop before her precious boy was hurt.

  “Shonal has always been his mother’s child,” the dark woman observed, leaning back in her chair. With a sigh, she realized that it was getting late. She was still dusty from travel and her stomach was proclaiming hunger. Azrael shook her head and rose, set
ting her mug on a nearby table. “It’s late. I’ve a mind to bathe and have dinner in my quarters.”

  “Aye, Milady,” Brahim responded, standing as well. “I know that Felicia and Vincenza are very excited to see you. If you wish, I’ll have dinner delivered while they attend you in the baths...?”

  Smiling, Azrael reached out and squeezed the old man’s shoulder. “That sounds wonderful, Brahim. Thank you.”

  The steward bowed, eyes twinkling. “I’ll see to your meal, Milady.”

  Azrael nodded. “Thank you, Brahim. It’s good to be home.”

  “And we’re happy for your return, Milady.”

  Grinning, Azrael winked at her steward before leaving.

  Azrael smiled as she entered, eyes lighting on her body slaves. They knelt in the center of the round room, excitement radiating about them. Pausing only long enough to touch the fountain and her lips, Azrael said, “Felicia, attend me.”

  The honeyed blonde approached, green eyes alight. “Welcome home, Milady,” she said.

  “Thank you, Felicia.” Azrael brushed the back of her knuckles along a tanned cheekbone. “I hear you’ve a suitor?”

  Felicia’s smile grew larger. “Yes, Milady. His name is Kinnet. He’s very special.”

  “Kinnet,” the general repeated. “He works with the horses?”

  “Yes, Milady.”

  Azrael smiled. “He’s a lucky man then.” She bent forward and kissed the slave, reacquainting herself with familiar territory.

  Ursula ducked her head, schooling her features to mildness. This was worse than watching her mistress with Midia.

  “Have my things been delivered?”

  Breathless, Felicia said, “Yes, Milady. They’re in your chambers.”

  “Very good.” Azrael released the slave. “Go to the smaller chest. There’s a small linen sack inside. It’s a gift for you.”

  “Truly?” Felicia asked. “Thank you, Milady!”

  “You’re welcome. Go now, quickly.”

  The blonde scampered into the next room.

  “Vincenza.”

  As the thin woman glided to their mistress, Ursula wondered at how her very stance screamed superiority. She gritted her teeth, trying not to ball her hands into fists.

  “Milady. I’ve missed you.”

  Azrael’s fingers traced black hair, following the soft strands until they passed her slave’s shoulders. “I’ve missed you, as well.”

  Ursula fumed at another kiss. This one seemed to last far longer than Felicia’s. When she risked a glance, she could see why - their mistress had pulled Vincenza to her in a full-bodied embrace.

  Felicia returned, bag in hand. Unfazed by the display, she returned to her mistress’ side, holding a delicate porcelain cup. “It’s beautiful, Milady,” she murmured.

  “I thought you might enjoy it,” Azrael said, accepting a hug of thanks. “It reminded me of you and your roses in the garden.” Turning her attention to Vincenza, the dark woman smiled. “And for you I have a packet of letters from home. Your mother is well and asks that you attend your sister’s wedding next summer.”

  “Oh! May I, Milady?” Vincenza asked, her aloof demeanor cracked by a hopeful smile.

  “I don’t see why not.” Azrael laughed at the sudden fierce hug.

  “Thank you, Milady!”

  “You’re welcome, Vincenza. It’s good to see your smile. I’ve missed you both.” Movement caught Azrael’s eye, her newest slave shifting uncomfortably where she knelt. “You’ve met Ursula?”

  The women nodded, Felicia murmuring affirmative.

  It wasn’t lost on Azrael that Vincenza’s response was cool. The black haired slave was the latest addition to Azrael’s household. While accepting the need to share her mistress with the others, Vincenza still held a touch of jealousy that was no doubt flaring.

  “Ursula.”

  Swallowing, the brunette rose and approached them, stopping just within reach.

  “Allow me to personally introduce you to my body slaves,” Azrael said. “Felicia has been with me for close to six years now. If she’s not here or in the room she shares with Vincenza, she’ll be puttering about the garden with dirt between her toes.”

  Felicia couldn’t help but giggle at the description, her tanned skin reddening.

  “Vincenza has been with us for three years. Her family trains some of the most highly sought after courtesans in the kingdom. She was a gift from my uncle.”

  Ursula wondered if the thin slave could be any more smug. The haughty look on her delicate face seemed to be her natural expression.

  Azrael muffled a sigh, sensing the sparks between the youngest members of her intimate household. Felicia would keep them in hand until Midia’s homecoming celebration was complete. “Has your room been freshened?”

  “Yes, Milady. Thank you,” Ursula said, noting an irritated flash in Vincenza’s black eyes with enjoyment.

  “Your clothing delivered?”

  Felicia nodded. “Yes, Milady. Everything was brought in from the wagons. I made certain that Ursula was unpacked and comfortable.”

  Azrael squeezed the strawberry blonde in thanks. “Ursula, I’m sure you’re as tired and dusty as I. Go change into your robe and we’ll go to the baths.”

  “Yes, Milady.” Ursula curtseyed and left the room, frowning at her mistress’ next words.

  “You shall both attend me tonight.”

  Azrael lay in darkness unable to sleep, which was odd, as her body slaves had fairly worn her out. Yet, as Vincenza and Felicia danced with their dreams, their mistress remained awake. The light of a three quarter moon illuminated the foot of Azrael’s bed, silk sheets reflecting its light. The gentle breathing of her body slaves while hypnotic did nothing to give Azrael rest.

  Unable to remain in bed, the dark woman eased out from the tangle of limbs, pausing to watch fondly as the women found each other among the rumpled sheets and relaxed deeper into their slumber. Azrael had to admit that she missed Vincenza’s fire and Felicia’s earthy presence while she was away. With a sigh, she scooped up her robe and left the sleeping area, carefully drawing the curtain so as not to disturb them.

  Slipping through her chambers, Azrael arrived at the entry fountain. A smile curved her lips and she closed her eyes, allowing the sound to wash over her. This was something she’d also missed. Azrael had lived most her life in these quarters. Her rooms had been the set of chambers across from her current ones. This fountain had gurgled through years of scraped knees, adolescent arguments and nighttime stories.

  Azrael opened her eyes and stepped forward, allowing cool water to wash over her fingers before touching them to her lips. Looking at the shrine above, she said, “Thank you for seeing me safely home once more. Give me guidance in the days ahead.”

  After a respectful pause, Azrael turned away, eyes restlessly darting around the room. Her private hall, across from the entry, was silent and brooding. Though there were comfortable lounges there, the general really didn’t want to think of the duties she’d have to resume all too soon. Of course most of her meetings would be in the audience room down the way, but interviews on extremely delicate issues would arrive here, keeping gossip to a minimum. With the current situation in the capital, Azrael was certain that many meetings would be held in her private hall until things were taken care of satisfactorily.

  The door to the other set of chambers gaped darkly at her and Azrael was drawn inside.

  Moonlight filtered in, lighting the way in the familiar room. It had been too long since she’d been here. What had it been? Five years? That was when she’d moved into her father’s rooms, her mourning complete. These chambers, the ones she’d grown up in, were reserved for the woman of the house and her children. Azrael had little memory of her mother save the occasional murals throughout the villa. Lung sickness had taken her when Azrael was a toddler and she’d spent most of her childhood in these chambers alone.

  Despite the passage of time, the rooms were still famil
iar. Moonlight helped save Azrael from injury as she navigated around tables and chairs. Past the next doorway was another chamber, this one a dressing room. Cabinets and armoires surrounded the perimeter and a precious mirror leaned against one wall. Even in the semi darkness, Azrael could see Ursula’s brushes and combs neatly placed on a cabinet next to a bowl and ewer. She touched a brush as she passed, the smooth bone handle cool against her fingers. Nearby, a pile of neatly folded clothing sat on a chest, the whole of Ursula’s possessions barely filling a good-sized sack.

  Azrael made a mental note to clear out a trunk for the body slave. Half of the clothing in here was far to small for the general, most of it being things she’d worn through or outgrown since childhood. These chambers needed a thorough cleaning.

  Easing through the dark, Azrael slipped into the final room. She could barely make out the sleeping form as she leaned against the door, windows not at the proper angle to catch the moonlight. As her eyes adjusted, she saw Ursula curled on her side, a blanket draped over her waist.

  A sudden urge to caress the bared back sent the general forward, but she stopped herself. Apparently, Felicia and Vincenza hadn’t worn her out after all. Analyzing that thought, Azrael came around the bed, kneeling beside her slave. It was sobering; Azrael didn’t want sex from Ursula. She simply wanted to climb into bed and hold the sleeping brunette.

  Azrael almost scoffed aloud as she sat back on her heels. Ridiculous! If it was feminine companionship she wanted, there were already two women in her bed.

  Yet, she couldn’t seem to sleep there.

  Studying Ursula’s face, Azrael remembered an emotion similar to what she felt for this slave. She’d been but a youth, full of self-importance and brash with immortality. In an attempt by Azrael’s father to foster others of his daughter’s age and station, the fair Lenore had come calling.

  Azrael could still recall how her heart stopped at the first sight of auburn hair and laughing green eyes. The two had become inseparable through the six months of Lenore’s stay, Azrael flirting outrageously with the older girl to gain her favor. When the fostering ended, Lenore was returned home and Azrael’s heart was broken.