Melenius considered summoning up a strong wind to blow him from his pedestal. The insufferable arrogance of the Akar! The manipulation and deceit!
“I go, therefore,” Nevius said, “with the battle-god’s blade before me.”
Another priest, older and grizzled – obviously a battled-hardened veteran – jumped up on the rostrum. He smeared blood across Nevius’s right cheek. “May the blood of your enemies be on your left!”
The crowd was ecstatic with religious fervor. They loved their ceremonies.
Nevius raised his sword before the people. “What message do you want me to take to Belamal?”
The crowd chanted “death”, “victory”, and “glory”, and their fervor grew to such a fever pitch that Melenius thought there might be a riot.
Nevius whistled through his fingers, and his soldiers poured into the Forum through the Arch. The crowd parted so quickly that not a few people got trampled. When the soldiers reached the rostrum, they turned about face and waited until Nevius led them out.
“For the republic!” he cried as he jogged away.
Nevius was good, almost as good as his father. When Melenius looked back at Judal the Elder, he saw pride worn plain on his face. Judal did not even try to hide it. He had stolen Melenius’s glory. Indeed, he had robbed even Belamal of his rightful fame and respect, and he was not ashamed. What had Nevius done to compare with Belamal’s exploits? Nothing. Yet he rode out of Nirrion as great a hero, despite having slain only one enemy for every hundred of Belamal’s.
There was an awkward moment when the crowd found itself standing around with nothing to do. The festivities were over, but maybe there was something more? Melenius found the situation mildly amusing, but once the crowd began to mill about and then disperse, probably to go find the nearest bar and continue the celebration, he turned his attention to Nevia.
“I’m not offended, Nevia,” he said, looking down at the bundle of wheat in his arms. “What do I care for the Senate and their gifts? We’ll be gone from here soon enough, never to set foot in Nirrion again.”
Nevia’s hand brushed against his, and Melenius moved the bundle to block anyone seeing them touch. “When will we be away?”
“Soon. It takes time to liquidate all my holdings. The Firin estate is vast, though nothing, of course, to the Akar.”
“And I am selling off Belamal’s slaves.” Nevia’s airs rippled with laughter. “When the general returns, he will find an empty house. There will be neither wife nor slave to greet him.”
Melenius’s confusion disturbed his waters. “We don’t need the money.”
“I know,” Nevia said, “but the fewer Belamal spies about …”
The image of Tiranus lying dead reminded Melenius of Nevia’s ruthlessness. He wanted to kiss her forehead, but instead he took her hand more firmly in his. Just when he was about to say something to her about meeting him at Melara’s Blossom, one of Judal’s temple slaves interrupted him.
“Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but my master requires your presence.”
Melenius looked toward the temple. Once he made eye contact with Judal, the Chief Priest turned away and passed into the deep shadows of the temple.
“Your father wants to talk to me.” Melenius squeezed Nevia’s hand.
“Honor to you, Lord Firin.” Nevia maintained her formal distance in front of Judal’s slaves, but she returned Melenius’s grip beneath the wheat bundles.
Melenius was escorted into Judal’s personal chambers where Judal stood in the middle of the room, his arms spread wide, while temple slaves removed his gilded over-cloak.
“Come in, Firin.” Judal beckoned him forward.
Melenius did not like the temple. Even though he was not particularly devout, he had nothing against Jehiel personally. For the most part, he left the gods alone, and they did not bother him. It seemed a fair arrangement to Melenius. What he could not stand was the hypocrisy by which Judal lived his life. The office of Chief Priest was the most respected position in the republic, and the people looked to Judal as the embodiment of wisdom and virtue. Cunning, yes. Wise? Hardly. As for virtue, Melenius’s scorn ripped through his elements like a biting winter wind. Men like Judal defrauded the people; they preyed upon their natural trust.
“What do you want?” Melenius dispensed with the customary “Radiance” honorific.
The slaves, done tending to Judal, looked at Melenius in shock.
“Leave us,” Judal commanded. When the room was clear, he went over to a small table against the wall and poured himself a cup of wine. He held it up in a gesture that wordlessly asked Melenius if he wanted any. Melenius shook his head. “I hear you’re leaving.”
Melenius folded his arms in front of his chest in human fashion. He wanted Judal to have no doubt about his feelings on this matter. “That’s right.”
Judal’s eyes wrinkled in a slow smile. “Where are you going?” He reclined upon a low couch.
“None of your business.”
The smile evaporated, and Judal leaped to his feet. “Kanfiran eat your eyes! It is my business.” He thrust out his fist, showing Melenius his ruby ring, gaudy like everything else about him. “This makes it my business.”
“I don’t care about your hypocritical seal.”
“Your leaving will throw the Senate into turmoil. We’ll have to raise a house to nobility and choose a senator from among its men.”
“That’s your problem. I’m not going to sit here and take what you’ve done to me.”
Judal’s mouth made a scoffing noise. “You’re going to cause political disarray all for a worthless piece of ass?”
Melenius’s earth cracked at the fury of his rising waters. “I should kill you for that insult.”
“Try.”
Melenius might have, but he knew he would not make it out of the temple alive. The guards would overwhelm him and cut him down. Judal may even have personal assassins about. But it was not death that Melenius feared. Nevia would never forgive him for dying and abandoning her.
“You’re thinking with the wrong head, boy,” Judal said. “But what more could be expected of a Faror?”
Melenius wanted to tell him how close he was to death, how easy it would be to kill him. “A lot more than could ever be expected of Skenje like you.”
“You wear a senator’s robes, but you understand nothing of the political intricacies of a complex republic such as ours.”
Melenius struggled to control the wave of wrath from bursting forth and drowning Judal. “I’m going to leave before I do something that would throw Nirrion into worse disarray than my mere departure. Despite your accusations, I really do care about Nirrion. It’s my home, too. I was born here, grew up here, and am a full-blooded citizen, as much as any gold-headed Skenje.”
Judal slammed his fist down on the table and spilled his wine. “Then start acting like one.”
“I am. You should know all about piety and devotion to those one loves. Tell me, priest, whether I’m being pious or not when I say I would give over the entire republic to Veirakai before I forsake my true wife, Nevia Akara Firin.”
“How dare you profane this holy temple by uttering that name?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon enough, and you can go on playing the hypocrite.” Melenius stormed away, knocking over two slaves outside the room. What he did not tell Judal was that Nevia would be running away with him.
Chapter Seventeen
Once safely inside Belamal’s house, Nevia threw the gilded wheat to the ground. The Senate’s insult to Melenius still rankled. She had not cared one way or the other about the parade, but if they were going to have some sort of celebration, then they ought to have done it properly.
“Honey water.” Nevia sat down on a low divan. She had no idea why her father would want to talk to Melenius, and this disturbed her. She did not like being in the dark about her father’s plans, as far too often those plans were to the detriment of Melenius. She sipped her honey wate
r. Half her household staff had been sold, but half still remained; and they were as devoted to Belamal as ever. She had hoped that Melenius would be able to make arrangements to meet her at a bawdy house – the idea of meeting her lawful husband in a clandestine tryst was arousing – but Judal’s summons had cut her meeting short.
Nevia shifted uncomfortably on the divan. Her elements felt out of place; she was pulled unpleasantly. She knew that it was her need for Melenius.
“My veil.” She rose. “Summon the litter.”
In five minutes’ time she was once more out in the city, but her journey was shorter than the chariot procession to the Forum. This time she was going only a few streets over, to Melenius’s townhouse. She did not expect that her father’s speech with Melenius would take long, and she resolved to wait if Melenius were not yet there.
She did not have to wait. Melenius was there, though only just then arrived.
“Lord Firin.” Nevia extended her hand to Melenius, who raised it to his lips in Faror fashion.
“What brings the glorious Lady of the republic to my home?” asked Melenius, for the benefit of the slaves listening.
“Lorin business,” said Nevia.
“Then come, sit, and drink my water.” Melenius led her into the peristyle, and they sat decorously across from each other.
Only then did Nevia slip into the esoteric Lorin tongue. “My love, what did my father want with you?”
“He tried to convince me not to leave Nirrion,” said Melenius. His elements were, as Nevia could plainly see, still disturbed. “He accused me of behaving childishly, of ‘thinking with the wrong head’, as he put it.”
“What?” Nevia’s fires darted up. Her fury at the earlier insult had not died away; it had only been banked, and now she was angrier than ever.
“He told me not to leave over a ‘worthless piece of ass’.” Melenius’s winds fanned Nevia’s wrath, and she began to rise from her seat.
“I will kill him. I have wanted to kill him since he first ripped me from you, but this – this is too much. To insult you all morning under guise of honoring you, and then to mock you for a fidelity he cannot even comprehend?”
“No.” Melenius’s winds died away at once. “You shall not. Do not even think of it, my wife.”
Nevia sat down, but she did not yet give up. “I could do it. It would not be difficult. I would not even be caught.”
“You can’t know that, and besides, I do not want you to be damned.” Melenius started to reach for Nevia, but stopped at the last instant. His elements betrayed his frustration. “I nearly killed him there and then, but I thought better of it.”
“If it is your command that I let him live...”
“Yes, it is.”
The rippling of power in Melenius’s winds as he spoke sent a rush of dampness to Nevia’s pussy. “If I creep out of my house tonight, what will you do to reward me for my obedience in not burning my father alive?”
“Reward?” Melenius’s elements were thick with his desire. “I fully intend to discipline you just for asking.”
Nevia knew that when she stood up, her dress would be damp. The threatening promise in Melenius’s words made her want to run back to Belamal’s house, leave all her attendants behind, and run back here, here where her heart beat and her elements pulsed.
“I will be here tonight,” she said. “Look for me as soon as the sun is below the horizon.”
“I will be waiting.” Melenius smiled in his fires. “I will leave the gate open. Do not be late, or you will be disciplined for that, too.”
****
Nevia, having told Belamal’s slaves that she was retiring early and was on no account to be disturbed, barred the door of her bedchamber from the inside and crept out of the townhouse. She waited until it was fully dark before even leaving. She knew that it would take at least ten minutes to reach Melenius’s house, and she did not intend to run. She would be late, and she was glad, knowing that Melenius’s “discipline” would be well worth her delay in reaching him.
The streets of the Nerivi hill were far safer than those south of the river, and Nevia wore a plain, homespun cloak over her gown. She did not want to attract attention on her way. She did not fear being set upon by ruffians, of course. Even the most hardened gang would flee if she burned one of them alive. It was the rumors about her being out that she wanted to avoid.
As she walked, she realized her decision not to run had been a wise one. Not only would it ensure her thorough punishment when she arrived, but it seemed to prevent anyone from noticing her. She walked as slowly, but with as much purpose, as did the other pedestrians.
When she reached Melenius’s townhouse, she saw the open gate. Just within it, she could make out Melenius’s pacing figure. She risked a dart of the final block, and she ran straight through the gate and into Melenius’s arms.
“You’re late, my snowflake.” Melenius spoke only after he had kissed her.
“I know.” Nevia’s elements were saucy. “I did not want to spoil my sandals with running.”
Melenius swept her up off her feet. “I suspected as much.” His winds growled. “You deserve everything you’re going to get tonight.”
Nevia, though held fast beyond escape, had some movement of her arms, and she ran her hand along Melenius’s hardening shaft as he carried her. “I certainly hope to get this.”
“You’ll have to work for it.” Melenius nibbled at her ear. “Naughty girls who are late to their trysts have to earn the cock.”
Nevia smiled against Melenius’s chest. This was better than she had hoped. He must have been worried for her.
****
It was close to midnight when Nevia heard a rap on the door. She had earned Melenius’s cock by the simple expedient of sucking it while wearing his favorite of her plugs, and now she was lying beneath Melenius as he thrust repeatedly and deeply into her ass.
“Enter.” Melenius did not pause in his rhythm.
“Dominus, there is a message for you from Garalach.”
Nevia’s elements flashed with jealousy, and Melenius leaned down and kissed her lips. “I fuck your ass, remember?”
Nevia could not forget it, not while his cock was ripping her in two, and she bucked against him.
“What does Garalach want?” Melenius placed one hand around Nevia’s throat, and she knew that he was preparing in case she started to become upset by the mention of her old tutor.
“He has come back from meeting with Belamal’s army.” Melenius’s steward consulted the wax tablet he held. “The general has sent back some of the Kindor spoils with Garalach because those spoils are of Lorin design.”
Melenius’s only response was to kiss Nevia’s breast, and she breathed relief in her airs. She did not blame Melenius for fucking Garalach; it was Garalach’s fault for deceiving Melenius into thinking she had betrayed him. And Garalach she still did not trust.
But she could not think even of jealousy as Melenius’s hand pressed on her throat. “Show me why it is your ass is so much better than Garalach’s.”
Nevia pulled her legs up higher, resting the backs of her calves on Melenius’s shoulders and hooking her ankles behind his neck. This had the effect of opening her back passage even further, and she pressed back against her husband.
“Gods, Nevia!” Melenius released her throat to put his weight on his hands, thrusting into her with all his strength. The pain that tinged her pleasure pushed her over the edge. She sobbed in all her elements as Melenius continued to pound into her, relentless as the sea, inexorable as the tide. Her climax started to build again, and when Melenius suddenly slapped her buttocks, she screamed out as her pleasure blinded her. Apparently, Melenius was not blinded, however, for his moan of appreciation echoed in her elements as she felt liquid pouring out of her pussy.
“Dirty little Akara.” Melenius’s climax was only two strokes behind hers, and Nevia felt the river of hot cum he dumped into her ass. “Sweetest ass I’ve ever fucked.�
�
She knew that he said this to remind her of his devotion to her only, and she kissed his mouth.
Only when Melenius rolled off of her did she notice that his steward still waited.
“Bathe us.” Melenius clearly had forgotten the man bearing Garalach’s message.
As the slaves washed them, paying particular attention to her ravaged ass, Nevia tapped Melenius’s shoulder. “Your steward is still there.”
Melenius sat up. “Why are you here? Is there anything more?”
“Garalach requests your presence on the floor of the Senate, Dominus.”
“Why?” Melenius lay back again as the slaves washed the sweat from his chest.
Nevia watched him, her elements all alert to the slightest indication of affection for Garalach.
“His message states only that he has air-related artifacts to ask you about, Dominus.”
Melenius groaned in his waters and rolled over to plant a kiss on Nevia’s throat. “I suppose I ought to go.”
“I am going, too.” Nevia locked her hands behind Melenius’s head, pushing his mouth down over her breast.
Melenius bit her. “I didn’t expect anything different, and I will be glad to have you there. After we look at the things he has brought, I intend to make him admit what he has done. Did you know that he actually swore an oath on Chiel’s bright eyes to help me recover you?”
“Oathbreaker!” Nevia’s fires flared up.
“Peace, wife. The gods will hold him accountable for his lies.”
Nevia smiled, and she ran her fingers through Melenius’s luxuriant black hair. “I look forward to hearing what pathetic excuse he can come up with for you.”
****
Melenius took his litter to the Forum, and Nevia rode with him for the first time since their enforced separation at her father’s villa. The heavy curtains of the litter provided them with a sanctuary in the streets of the city.
Melenius traced Nevia’s jaw with his forefinger. “If we are to meet on the Senate floor, what will you do, Nevia?”
Chasing Earth and Flame Page 17