“I see,” she said, distracted by the promise in the air. The staircase led out into a large vaulted chamber lit with oil lamps, their glass covers misty with humidity. They gave the chamber a warm, golden glow that welcomed and soothed at the same time. A slight decline in the floor sloped to a large rectangular pool that ran the width of the chamber. Faint wisps of steam rose from its dark surface and Danaë could smell the minerals in the water.
“Oh, my,” she said faintly. “I may never come out.”
Matthias stroked her back. “I’m glad you like it. Shall we go in?”
“Yes, please.”
He led her to a long teak bench set against the wall and undressed her as carefully as Flavia would. She closed her eyes and let herself revel in the feeling of being tended to. Her garments were soon deposited on the bench and she stood nude in the gentle lamplight. Matthias paused in his work, admiring her. “My gods, little bird, you’re lovely. Have I told you that yet?”
“You have now,” she said, her hands going to the ties of his shirt. “Here, help me get you out of these things.”
Stripping him, even with his court clothes on, went faster than her own disrobing and soon he stood naked next to her. Danaë ran her hands over his broad shoulders, then down over the hard pads of his pectorals. His flat nipples pebbled up against her palms, an unexpected touch that sent a shiver through her. “You’re everything I ever wanted,” she said, following the thick, soft line of hair down his abdomen to his groin. His cock was beginning to stir and she gave it a gentle stroke, enjoying the silken skin there. “Thank you for marrying me.”
“I believe I should be the one thanking you, my queen,” Matthias said, his breath catching a bit at her touch. “By marrying me, you saved my life.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it. “And for that alone, everything I have is yours.”
She hesitated for a long moment. “I know that you still need to heal from Hanne’s loss, and that she will always be in your heart,” she said. “But I would do everything in my power to make you happy, if you could find a space there for me as well.”
His lips came down on hers, smothering her next words in a soul-blazing kiss. When they parted he rested his forehead against hers. “Little bird, I’m halfway in love with you already,” he murmured. “I think I knew it the moment I saw you in the courtyard that first night, but my mind was still clouded by that damned mirror and I doubted my own judgment.” His hands came up and cupped her face. “I need more time before I can give myself to you fully. But it will be soon, I promise. If there’s anyone in the world I’m meant to love, I believe it’s you.”
Danaë felt as if her heart glowed through her very skin. “I can be patient,” she said. “For you.”
“Good.” He kissed her again. “Now, I think we need to get into the pool before I lose all control and ravish you on this bench.”
The idea held a great deal of appeal, but there was something that was even better. “Pool first,” she said, stepping back and taking his hand. “Then we’ll see what happens.”
****
Matthias went down the stone steps first, guiding Danaë into the steaming, mineral-laden water. It was too hot at first, and then his body grew used to the heat, welcoming it deep into his aching muscles and tendons.
He could see when Danaë reached that point. Every muscle in her body relaxed and she eased into the water with a sigh of contentment. “This is marvelous,” she said dreamily.
“My physicians say that the minerals in the water promote healing. And it’s very good to come down here and soak on a cold winter’s night.” He guided her deeper into the pool. Underneath them the floor continued to slant until the water came up to his chest. Danaë was already floating upright, her dark hair spreading on the surface like a delicate water plant.
He showed her to one of the niches carved in the pool’s side that served as seats, settling them both on the warm stone. She cuddled into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. “I feel like there’s so much I need to learn about you,” she said, her hand making little wavelets in the water. “We’re married and I don’t even know what you like to eat, or what your favorite color is.”
Matthias sensed she was steering the conversation, trying to ease the tension of the day. He was inclined to indulge her. There would be more than enough time tomorrow to discuss Lukas, the mystery of the mirror, or even the trip back to Hellas. “My favorite food is roast pork with fresh spring peas and applesauce,” he said. “As for colors, I like a good coral red. What about you?”
“Food? Fresh-caught fish baked with lemon and olive oil, roasted vegetables and a good glass of wine. Unless you mean dessert, then it’s kanafeh. It’s a sweet cheese pastry that’s delicious.”
“I’ll have the cooks learn how to make it,” he promised. “And your favorite color?”
“Teal. The color of the sea on a warm spring morning.”
He made a mental note of it. He had already spoken with the chamberlain about stripping his chambers to the bare walls, and Ife had volunteered to have everything from the room examined to guarantee that there were no more vicious surprises lurking. While the servants were at it, they could redo the bedding in a combination of coral and teal. It would be a bold color palette, an excellent way to mark the beginning of their marriage.
Without the poisonous guilt inflicted by the mirror’s demonic whispers, he could think more clearly now about Hanne. He would always love her, Danaë was right about that, but now he could also accept what Reniel had been telling him. She wouldn’t have wanted him to spend the rest of his life alone.
He pulled Danaë closer. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Magistra Ife was right—this is what I needed.” She looked up at him, her lashes dark and thick around her deep blue eyes. Lit by the glow of the lamplight, they sparkled with life. “How are you feeling?”
“The same as you.” He kissed her damp curls, then hesitated. “Damn. Your courses—”
“Stopped early.” One corner of her mouth turned up. “It happens sometimes with female mages if they have to work a powerful spell. It’s the body’s way of conserving resources, I suppose.”
“I see. Then we can make love tonight.” He grimaced, realizing how he sounded. “If you want to, that is. If you don’t, I understand—”
Danaë put her fingers to his mouth. “I want to make love to you tonight. In fact, if I’m being honest about it I want to make love to you right now.” She eyed the steaming surface. “But there’s a problem with making love in water. Ironically, it tends to dry things that work better when slippery.”
Matthias decided not to compound his earlier faux pas by admitting he knew this from the few times he’d been able to lure Hanne into loveplay in the pool. “Then perhaps we should go back to your—our rooms.”
“Mm, in time. There’s something else I’d like to do first.” The sparkle in her eye had developed into a naughty glint. “Can you get out of the pool and sit on the edge here?”
“Well, yes, but—” An image of how it would look appeared in his mind; him sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs spread and Danaë between them, her full rosy lips mere inches from his cock. “Are you … I mean, you are suggesting what I think you are?”
The smile she gave him was wicked. “I wouldn’t know, milord king. Why don’t you sit on the edge and see?”
He levitated out of the water, positioning himself on the smoothed stone edge as requested. She settled between his thighs, running her hands up them and stopping short of his groin. His cock flexed as if it had a mind of its own, beckoning his queen to come closer.
She did, running her tongue out and lapping at his shaft. He couldn’t help twitching in startled delight at the sensation of warm, wet velvet backed by clever muscle, so soft on his skin but with such promise behind it.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said raggedly.
“Hush.” She licked him again, pain
ting a slick line on his thickening shaft. Then she flattened her tongue and dragged it along the underside from the base to the foreskin before sitting back and smacking her lips. “You taste so clean.”
“I’m glad,” he groaned, gripping the stone coping.
She chuckled and bent back to her work, licking her way down to his balls. Those she laved with long, slow strokes, taking each one in her mouth and sucking ever so gently before letting it slide out and repeating the process on the other. Molten pleasure began to build deep in his core, sending a delicious shiver up his spine. Even his nipples decided to come out and play, stiffening in the now-cool air of the vault.
Danaë shifted her focus yet again, planting open-mouthed kisses along his rigid shaft and tracing the veins there with a pointed tongue. She rose up a bit and caught the edge of his foreskin between her lips, nibbling at it. “I think you like this, milord king,” she murmured before taking the blunt head in her mouth and swirling her tongue around the flared edge.
He was torn between dropping his head back and reveling in the amazing actions of her lips and tongue, or watching her perform them. The visual treat won out and he watched as her lips engulfed his aching cock. One small hand wrapped around the base and she bobbed her head until her mouth met her fist.
Hot. Wet. Perfect suction, the silken cradle of her tongue along the underside teasing the sensitive nerves there. It was a heaven he never wanted to leave.
Too soon he felt the pressure building in his balls, the oncoming herald of what promised to be a magnificent orgasm. He tore one of his hands loose from the coping and grabbed her shoulder as gently as he could manage. “Stop, little bird, please, stop. I’m close.”
She let him slide free from her mouth with a moist little pop, her hand tightening at his cock’s root. “I don’t want to stop, Matthias. I want to bring you in my mouth,” she said, her voice low and throaty. “Let me swallow every drop of you down.”
There was nothing he could say to that. He gripped the stone again and she took him back in, humming now as her head bobbed and her lips stroked and her tongue rubbed and then her head came all the way down, how could she do that, he was in her throat, and then she swallowed—
He shouted as his seed boiled up through his shaft, gushing into her mouth. True to her word she drank down every bit of it, milking him with her hand and mouth. He had to close his eyes, his body wracked by aftershocks of pleasure.
When he grew sensitive he had to beg her to stop. She let him slide free again, licking a creamy drop from the corner of her mouth. “Yes, I definitely think you liked that.”
“I think that may be the understatement of the century,” he huffed, trying to get his breathing back under control. “Gods, where did you learn how to do that?”
“You don’t want to know, do you?” she said, giving the head a brief kiss before sinking back in the water.
“I most certainly do. I may have to knight the individual.” He paused. “After I beat him bloody, of course.”
Her laughter echoed off the stone walls.
****
The next day, Danaë sent for Magistra Ife. The mage arrived that afternoon, swathed in white and green robes that looked elegant against her rich skin.
“Your majesty,” the mage said, taking the upholstered chair opposite of Danaë. “I am pleased to see you looking so well.”
“All due to you, magistra,” Danaë said, gesturing to a serving girl for wine. “I wanted to give you my personal thanks for what you did. If it hadn’t been for you, both the king and I would be dead now.”
Ife rested a hand over her heart. “It is a privilege to serve,” she said, then hesitated. “Majesty, I don’t mean to offer offense, but I did wonder why you didn’t break the enchantment as soon as you recognized it.”
Danaë raised her right hand. Her sleeve slid down, revealing her adept’s band. “I’m not a magistra yet. I recognized the mirror for what it was, but I didn’t have the power to break its enchantment.”
Ife’s slender eyebrows furrowed. “Oh. I would have thought you’d sat your adept’s test already.”
“I was supposed to, but my father died first. Afterwards, I didn’t have time. Too busy running the country and learning how to be a good ruler, you see.”
Ife leaned back in the comfortable chair, one finger tapping against her goblet. “I can see that the affairs of state must take precedence, majesty,” she said after a moment. “Still, I do hope you plan on sitting the test at some point. The fact that you were able to hold off the demons while still wearing that band is very impressive. It would be a shame for all of that potential to go to waste. And it’s not as if you’d be the first mage-ruler in the history of Hellas.”
Danaë considered the band. She had been overwhelmed with the sudden pressures of taking up her father’s throne and ruling a country, that much was true. But things had settled down after a few months. She could have carved out enough time to study for the adept’s test if she’d wanted to. But every time she tried to practice, she remembered what had happened the day her father drowned, and what her tutor had done afterwards.
“May I share a confidence with you, magistra?”
The other woman nodded.
“I can’t take the adept’s test because I’m not on speaking terms with my tutor.” It was a tradition with the weight of law in magical practice that a student’s tutor administer the three Greater Exams. “Well, to say we’re not on speaking terms is like saying the ocean is a bit damp. Even if I could somehow convince him to administer the test, he’d fail me out of pure spite.”
Ife frowned. “I see. Have you gone to the Grand Magister of Hellas about this? I know that sort of leapfrogging is frowned upon, but—”
“Magistra, my tutor is the Grand Magister of Hellas,” Danaë said. “You see my difficulty.”
“Oh. Oh, dear. Yes, that changes matters.” The mage rubbed her lips in thought. “I take it there’s no way to resolve this issue between you?”
Danaë considered her next words with care. Slandering another mage was a serious charge, and despite Ife’s service her personal loyalties were unknown. “Not without sacrificing any sense of personal integrity, not to mention the good opinion of my new husband,” she said. “My tutor wishes certain … liberties. I’m not willing to provide them.”
From the disgusted expression that bloomed on Ife’s face, she had read between the lines. “Ah. One of those.”
“Indeed. And he does have a long and distinguished record of service to the Order, so complaining to the Grand Synod is pointless, even if they would listen to me.” She had no illusions on that regard. The ruling body of the Order, known as the Grand Synod, was comprised of the grand magisters from each kingdom on the continent. They were both influential and notoriously protective of their colleagues. The Grand Synod was overseen by a quartet of mages known as the Four Elements, high grand magisters so ancient and powerful that they spent the bulk of their time performing esoteric research and pushing back the boundaries of magic. Danaë had never even seen one of the Elements, and rumor had it that their very names—Jogimo, diNorcia, Epilonious, Ceit—had gained so much magical power that they could now be used in spell-casting. To apply to them for help was unthinkable. She would have better luck attracting the attention of the gods. “As long as I’m unwilling to surrender my royal person, Grand Magister Pelas is unwilling to see me advance to magistra. Hence my permanent status as adept.”
Ife nodded, still glowering. “I’ve never been fond of the top-heavy structure of the Synod. It may have worked once upon a time, but these days the grand magisters take advantage of their power far too often.” She put her goblet down on a nearby table and sat up straight. “Still, it’s not good for an adept to stop practicing altogether. Magical talent is like a flood—if it’s not dammed and channeled, it becomes destructive.”
“Believe me, I know,” Danaë said quietly. Over the past year a constant sense of tension had existed in her bon
es and muscles, an unconscious restraint of the elemental power that demanded to be channeled through her. “Today is the first time since my father’s death that I haven’t felt like insects were crawling over my skin.”
“I can imagine.” A corner of the mage’s mouth quirked up. “Majesty, I’d like to propose something. If you wish, I would be happy to offer my services as interim tutor. I can’t give you your adept’s test unless this Pelas releases you from his authority, and from the sound of things that will happen when pigs fly. But any qualified magister can oversee an adept’s exercises. If nothing else it’ll reduce the strain on you and give you greater comfort. And with any luck this Pelas could drop dead of something. Then you’ll be in perfect position to take the adept’s test.”
Danaë wished she were that lucky. “Magistra, I thank you for your offer. But Grand Magister Pelas has a long memory for those who cross him.” It was the reason why no Hellene mage had wanted to work with her. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
Ife went a bit wintry. “Young lady, I am not under Grand Magister Pelas’s direct authority,” she said, her tone crisp. “I am an Aqua mage of Ypres, and before that Ghobos. I find I have time in my schedule to tutor an adept, and I am willing to offer that time to you. But it’s up to you whether or not you wish to use it. I won’t influence your decision one way or the other.” She stood, smoothing her robes. “Your maidservant knows how to find me. Do let me know when you’ve made your decision—”
“Wait.” Danaë was already on her feet. A year away from regular practice had caused her to forget how prickly mages could get. “I accept your offer, with thanks and gratitude. If you’re sure.”
“Quite sure. Then we’ll begin tomorrow. Have the servants clear a space in one of the palace courtyards, and make sure there are tubs or hogsheads full of water nearby. I plan on putting you through your paces.” Ife eyed her silk gown and smiled. “Oh, and wear something that won’t be ruined when it gets wet.”
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