“This time?” Nevia’s elements dripped with her invisible sarcasm. “My father holds me prisoner? For what cause ought I, daughter of the Chief Priest of Nirrion, be forbidden the Hall of Records? I am a scion of both the Basur and Akar clans, and who shall bar me my way?”
“That is none of my affair, Domina.” The captain still stood before her, his bulk more than sufficient to keep Nevia from passing by him. “It is my business only to keep you in the house for your own safety.”
Nevia strode forward, nearly touching the captain. “Tius, I have known you since I was a child. You are not impious man. I am going, and you cannot prevent me.”
“Yes, I can, Domina.” Tius gave a sharp whistle.
“You would dare to lay hands on an Akara?” Nevia knew that her voice would not convey the disdain she felt, but she trusted that the words themselves would suffice.
“No, Domina.” Tius bowed.
Nevia started forward again. “Then let me by.”
“But these men are not Skenje.” Tius waved to the guards. “They would not hesitate.”
Nevia glanced at the gathered men, and then she understood her father’s cunning. Though the guards of her father’s household would have feared to manhandle her, these others would not. As she appraised her guards, truly noticing them for the first time, she realized that not only were they, each and all, of foreign blood, but they were also not slaves. These were free men, mercenaries. They would not be cowed by her name or position. They wagged their heads as well, and a strange gleam was in their eyes; but she could not decipher it.
“So I am a prisoner then.” Nevia’s anger flashed up in her airs, but she forced it away. To give in to her passions would not help her cause. “Then send a messenger to the Hall of Records.” Nevia waved her hand at Ginovae, who handed over the wax tablet that Nevia had earlier written. “Have the scrolls and documents listed there brought to me within the hour.”
“Yes, Domina.” Tius bowed again, and Nevia waited until the messenger had departed before returning to her chamber. The mercenary guards, however, did not depart. They followed Nevia as she went back.
“Go, you lascivious dogs!” Ginovae barked out the command. “Go!”
To Nevia’s surprise, the mercenaries obeyed, though she heard them deriding Ginovae with epithets of “old hen”, “hag”, and “killjoy”. Only the pair of guards who stood by her door remained as Nevia reentered her room.
“Lascivious?” asked Nevia.
“Yes, Domina. Those foreigners all wanted nothing more than to violate you.”
Nevia made a mental note, associating that head-wagging and eye-gleam with lust. “It is so difficult to read humans. There is so much information conveyed in the slight movements of the mouth and in the dampness of the eyes.”
Ginovae did not respond. Nevia assumed that it was because her nurse was long accustomed to such speeches, but she did not know. At that instant, Nevia’s longing for Melenius crested like a wave in her waters, and even her earth was moved. She had not thought it possible to grow so close in so short a time, but now she found that she lacked him. She lacked his large, boisterous presence, his fiery black eyes, his luscious cock, but even more than that, she lacked his elements. She had been without him only a day, and already the sense of being isolated, of living in a menagerie full of inscrutable beings, weighed her down. In her longing, in her frustration, she went to the place where she was most at ease, the open air of the peristyle. There she sat by the water and traced her finger over its surface, wishing only to trace the skin of Melenius’s face.
****
Nevia stared at the tablet. She had wondered when her father had used the words “I nullify this marriage.” Now she knew that her suspicion had been correct. If the law her father had quoted had been in force as he claimed, he would not have made such a declaration. There would have been no need. To nullify a marriage was to admit that it had existed. She now had the proof. The Law of Faror Dispensation had indeed existed. It had been promulgated, in fact, by her great-grandfather on the Basur side, one Mirius Basur Kestal. At the time, tensions had been running high in Nirrion due to the failed marriage attempt between Mirius’s younger sister Miria and the then-heir of the Akar house, Darius Akar Judal. Marriage between Skenje and Faror had been a tender subject, and the Law of Faror Dispensation had been the compromise. However, and reading this thrilled Nevia, the law had been abrogated ten years earlier. It had never been more than a formality, but ten years earlier even that formality had been stricken from the books. It was an obscure point of knowledge, one as obscure as the law her father had invoked, but it would serve her turn. With this information, Melenius could challenge her father in the courts.
As soon as the joy surged in her, Nevia realized its futility. To challenge her father in the courts was folly, folly to the point of madness. Nevius Akar Judal was Chief Priest of Nirrion, the High Priest of Jehiel. He was the highest arbiter of law. He had sufficient money to bribe any priest or judge who might hear Melenius’s case, and those who could not be bought he could blackmail or assign to another case. To hope for justice against Judal was to hope for Lehvandar, dead god and progenitor of the Lorin, to be resurrected.
“Domina?” Ginovae’s voice cut into Nevia’s black thoughts. “The Dominus your father is here to speak to you.”
Nevia rose from her seat. She longed to kill her father, and the thought of doing so gave her such glee that she was smiling in her fires as Judal entered her chamber. “Your Radiance.”
“Why so distant, daughter?” Judal’s mouth turned up at the corners, but though Nevia had come to associate that action with pleasure, there was no matching brightness in his eyes. “I have apologized for the debacle at the villa, but to show my sympathy for you more concretely I have brought you these as a gift.” He stepped aside, revealing a pair of slim Jarad pleasure slaves, one male and one female.
Nevia appraised the pair. They were similar in appearance, both full-blooded Jarad, the most sought-after of all types of pleasure slave. The uncommon beauty of them both, particularly the young man, indicated that her father had spared no expense in making this gesture of apology. She was unmoved.
“If you have nothing further, I will retire to my cell.”
If Judal noticed the jab, Nevia could not see it. “I will leave these two to remind you of the pleasures only a Skenje can truly appreciate.”
The door closed behind him, and the two slaves were left in her room.
“Domina, are you in any way distressed?” asked Ginovae.
Nevia could not understand the motivation for the question, but she answered it. “Of course I am.”
“Then will you not relax with these two?” Ginovae gestured to the black-haired beauties. “You need not forgive the Dominus to take pleasure from his gift.”
“Very well.” Nevia reclined on the bed. “What is your specialty?” she asked.
“Whatever the Domina wishes,” said the youth. The girl nodded in silence.
Nevia felt her waters heave in her exasperation. She did not blame the slaves. How else could they answer? It was their training, their very way of life. Had they offered any other answer, they could expect to be beaten. For an instant, Nevia considered ordering the youth to take her as Melenius would have, with force and passion, but the very thought sent her earth into rebellion. In her moments of hesitation, the pair of slaves had, at Ginovae’s instruction, stripped themselves. The Jarad youth was extremely well-endowed, but even he lacked Melenius’s girth. And he was not Melenius.
The girl was slim and lovely, with long, black hair, as long and black as Melenius’s.
“Stand there.” Nevia waved to the corner, directing the youth away. “You, girl, lick me.” Nevia, still reclining on the bed, opened her legs. The girl obediently knelt before the bed and stroked Nevia’s dry cunt. When no response came, the girl replaced her fingers with her tongue.
Frustration clawed at Nevia. Never before this had she been so u
tterly unresponsive to, as she readily acknowledged, an extraordinarily skillful tongue. She sighed, her fires heating her airs. In hopes of at least some arousal, she turned to admire the naked youth. He still stood in the corner of the room where Nevia had directed him, and he watched his companion eating Nevia’s pussy; his head wagged, and his eyes gleamed with the same expression Nevia had seen on the faces of her guards. Lust, Ginovae had called the expression.
Nevia sat up and closed her knees. “Amuse yourself with the boy. Do whatever you like, or do nothing at all.” Nevia realized that the slaves would take her words to mean that they might, if they wished, do nothing, but she understood herself better. If they would not do as they pleased, then there was no point to their doing anything.
“Yes, Domina.” It was the girl who spoke this time. The boy was speechless, staring at her with hungry lust. She was in his arms almost before she had finished speaking.
Nevia watched, hoping against reason that the scene would arouse her. The girl kissed her fellow slave on the mouth, a lingering open-mouthed kiss, and his hands flew to her breasts. He caressed and fondled her, and Nevia heard the breathy moans of the girl.
“Please, Jor, let me suck your cock.”
“Only if you let me fuck you until you drip with Melara’s juices.” The boy pulled back from her, and she dropped to her knees. Her hands stroked his shaft until he was stiff as a rod, and then she licked his cock from the base to the tip. Jor buried his hands in her hair, pulling her forward on his cock, but always stopping before gagging her. Their movements were easy and practiced, and Nevia judged, from their grace, that this was a common routine for them. The boy’s eyes rolled back. His mouth was half-open, and his hands on the girl’s head trembled.
“Are they acting for my benefit?” Nevia whispered her question into Ginovae’s ear.
“I do not think so, Domina.” Ginovae responded in the same low tone. “I have seen slave pairs at some of the orgies, but I have not seen any who couple with such alacrity.”
Nevia leaned forward, mildly interested. “Do you often fuck each other?”
“Yes, Domina.” The boy, the only one whose mouth was free, answered her. “Every night in our bunks.”
“You may fuck each other now, if you like.”
“The Domina is too kind.” The youth pulled out of his companion’s mouth and knelt down onto the plush rug. The girl got on her hands and knees before him. They were both facing Nevia as he penetrated her from behind. Nevia noted their training. Even though they were fucking for their own pleasure, even though they desired each other, still they did not neglect their Domina. They displayed themselves for her perusal.
She watched the girl clutch at the rug as the boy steadily thrust into her. Their rhythm was deep and easy, and Nevia missed Melenius. He, too, knew her rhythm, and he could, and did, give her climaxes in every position.
Even as she thought of positions, the slaves altered theirs. The youth lay flat on his back, with his head at Nevia’s feet. The girl mounted him, and his cock disappeared inside her sopping cunt. She cupped her own breasts, running her thumbs over the nipples. They popped out in her arousal, and the girl looked Nevia in the face.
Nevia licked her fingers and inserted them into her pussy. Melenius had, on the second day of their marriage, ordered her to pleasure herself to climax while he watched. At the time, it had been easy; she had come shamefully quickly, like a green girl unaccustomed to the touch of a man. This time, there was nothing. No matter how she stroked, she did not grow aroused. She was dry as a parched legionnaire in the southern desert.
“Fill me with your cum, Jor!” By this time the girl had one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand, and she was bucking against him.
“Yes!” He released her breasts and grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her still. Nevia saw his legs twitching in his pleasure.
“I should think they would not risk his seeding her.” Nevia sat up, pulling her dress down. “Wash my hand.”
“Yes, Domina.” Ginovae wiped Nevia’s hand and fingers. “Actually, the girl has been sterilized. A pregnant pleasure slave is rarely requested.”
“Of course.” Nevia rose from the bed. It was useless to think of receiving any pleasure from these slaves, or any others. How could she partake of the domination she craved when she was always mistress of the situation? And further, no slave, however well-trained or well-endowed, could do as Melenius did and bring her to climax with only a kiss.
“Sell them, Ginovae.” Nevia dismissed the slaves with an idle gesture. Ready money would be of more use than pleasure slaves, and seeing how well those two fucked was only a painful reminder of Melenius’s absence.
“Yes, Domina.” Ginovae hurried the pair on with their clothes, and Nevia saw the girl’s wide eyes. Her breath was coming quickly, and she clung to Jor’s hand.
Nevia pondered, trying to remember what those expressions were. Fear. “Make sure that you sell them together,” said Nevia as Ginovae bustled out the door.
Nevia was still seated at her desk when Ginovae returned. “What is it?” asked Nevia. “Why have you returned so soon? You cannot have been to the marketplace and back again.”
“No, Domina. I have not.” Ginovae laid a heavy purse on the table. “But I have sold the slaves nonetheless. It seems, Domina, that the youth and the girl had saved sufficient funds to purchase their freedom, but they had never been given the opportunity. No one wanted to part with them.”
Nevia’s bitter laughter filled her airs and her fires, but in her deepest elements, in her earth and water, only sorrow moved. Jor and his lover, slaves though they were, yet had more liberty than she herself. “So they were pleased to find that their mistress had no use for them.”
“They paid the full price.” Ginovae once more lifted the purse. “You have a tidy sum here, Domina.”
“Money of which my father knows nothing.” That, at least, was a comfort.
****
“Nevia, I have good news for you.” Once more Judal stood at the door to Nevia’s chamber, and once more she felt hatred burning her.
“You are releasing me to my husband?”
“It was a mistake ever to let you anywhere near that hairy Faror beast—”
“I shall not hear such words spoken against my husband.” Nevia turned her back on her father.
“There is no need for animosity between us, Nevia.” Judal entered the room and took a step nearer her, but he stopped short of touching her. “I have already declared that he is not your husband—”
“I know about the abrogation of the Law of Faror Dispensation.” Nevia, fully aware of her father’s proximity, still did not turn around. “And you do not make mistakes of that kind. You let me wed Lord Firin for some devious reason of your own.”
“I flatter myself that in this case the moons chase the sun. Not for nothing are you my daughter.” Judal made that unpleasant sound that Nevia recognized for human laughter. “But if, as you say, I do not make mistakes, then you really ought to trust me. I know what is best for the Akar and for you. I do have a plan, and it is deeply laid. I have only the glory of the Akar in mind, and you, daughter, are the center of that glory.”
The flattery revolted her. “I have no interest in being an ornament to your name.” Nevia turned to face him. “You have cheated Lord Firin—”
Judal interrupted in his turn. “Now, Nevia, that is an unworthy thought. I have returned to Firin all that he paid for your brideprice, and doubtless he has nearly doubled his fortune by my doing so.”
Nevia was unsurprised to learn that Melenius’s fortune did not match his rank and blood. She knew that the Lozabet clan were infamous throughout Nirrion for retaining their Faror ways. Whenever there was profit to be gained, the Lozabet were never invited. “You have cheated Lord Firin of his lawful wife.” Nevia continued as though Judal had not spoken. “Whatever your plan is for the Akar clan, you have so turned me against my house that I could wish it were not the name of J
udal I lost when I wedded Melenius, but rather the name of Akar.”
“Nevia!” Her father’s hand flew toward her face, but he pulled it back before he connected with her cheek. “You would dare to blaspheme your ancestors?”
Nevia knew that her father could not see her emotion, neither her disdain nor her anger, but she surprised even herself with her calm. “I would dare more than this. I am no fool. The gods are real, and they guard the fathers of Nirrion, however unworthy they might be. To take your life would damn me, but I might risk it. But my husband would not see me cast into the outer darkness as a patricide. It would be against his express command to slay you, and thus you owe your continued existence to the one whom you despise, to my Melenius Lozabet Firin.”
“You are bewitched by that Lorin.” Judal squared his shoulders.
“I am Fire, and I am Earth.” Nevia wished that her father could hear her arrogance. “No one can bewitch me. I am myself the source of inspiration and genius.”
“That is well, Daughter.” Judal’s mouth turned up. “For you will have cause to inspire your husband with the genius to save our people from being overrun by the Kindor savages.” Judal turned away from Nevia, calling over his shoulder as he left. “Your husband is to be Arixus Kelar Belamal. Your betrothal feast is the day after tomorrow.” The door closed behind him.
Nevia’s elements quaked in her fury, but then her fires sparked.
“Ginovae, take the money from the slaves and go to the marketplace. Hire a messenger, and send him to Lord Firin’s house.” Even to Ginovae Nevia did not refer to her husband by his given name. That was a treasure for his ears only. “Tell him that when my false betrothal feast is held, he should come to my house. My father will not dare to have a bloodbath among his guests, and Lord Firin can carry me off. Use the money to hire some mercenaries.” Two could play that game. “Have them waiting to guard our retreat. Have them stand watch by Lord Firin’s litter, and when it leaves, have them guard it and its passengers.”
Chasing Earth and Flame Page 6