For a moment, Nevia’s flesh grew cold, and her eyes frosted over. But her elemental expression only weakened her further.
“You must rest,” Melenius said. “Don’t use your elements. You must starve the curse.”
“But I cannot rid myself of it completely. I am a Lorin. My elements are as essential to me as food and breath. Even if I do nothing, Garalach has killed me.”
“Killed us.” Melenius crushed Nevia’s weak body against his chest.
“His indelible touch is upon me. The rot has set in.”
Melenius responded by hugging her even more tightly. The Senate chamber was in shambles, Garalach was dead, and government servants lay broken and bloodied in the chasm, but Melenius did not care about any of that. His Nevia was hurt, and he had to find a way to help her. She had acted to save his life. She would have never given up on him, and he would be dicing with Nistaran before he ever gave up on her.
The tramping of heavy boots alerted Melenius. Into the chamber poured six Senate guards clad in crested helmets and leather breastplates, and carrying short swords that glittered in the torchlight. If there were any mirth in him, Melenius could have laughed at their hasty, half-dressed appearance and startled, half-sleeping eyes.
“Veirakai’s syphilitic dick! What happened here?” the captain cried, stretching out his hands toward the chasm. The chamber was a wreck.
Melenius remembered what he had done to Judal’s villa. Lorin wrath was nothing to trifle with.
The soldiers spotted the Lorin pair. “You! Who are you?”
“Senator Melenius Lozabet Firin.” Melenius sat behind Nevia with his legs wrapped around her, letting her lean back against his chest.
“And Lady Belamal,” the captain said.
Annoyance sparked the fires within Melenius.
“I’m sorry,” the captain said, moving closer, “but she has to leave. Rules is rules. No women step foot on the sacred marble of the Senate.”
Melenius laughed out loud for the benefit of the guards who would not detect his scorn. “You mean this marble?” He indicated the torn up, shattered floor with the huge hole in the middle.
The captain’s eyes roamed over the damage before he answered. “Still. Rules, sir.”
Melenius had had enough of this human. His hair floated up around him as he summoned his winds. With one mighty blast, he sent the entire group of guards flying back down the corridor and out of his sight.
When his winds were quieted, Melenius kissed the top of Nevia’s head. “I want you to know I never gave Garalach any token of affection.”
“I know,” Nevia said. “It was one of the clumsiest lies I have ever heard.”
Melenius snuggled into her shoulder, kissing her flushed skin.
Anyone might have wandered into the Senate chamber in the middle of that night and found Melenius and Nevia sitting on the floor, nestled against each other in a silent embrace.
Chapter Nineteen
“They will be back, my love.” Nevia, somewhat recovered, struggled to stand. “They will drag me away forcibly—”
“I won’t let them.” Melenius stood and helped Nevia to her feet. “They won’t take you from me.”
“You must stay here while I go to Belamal’s house.” Nevia’s thoughts ran far ahead of her weary tongue. “The guards will return with Senators, and we cannot afford to be seen together so intimately.”
“What should I tell them?”
Nevia’s heart burned with love for Melenius. He was strong and puissant, but he trusted her enough to follow her lead at times. “They know that Garalach brought back supposed Lorin artifacts from the Kindor spoils. These artifacts, of course, are not Lorin, but no one knows this. We tell them that these things were, indeed, of Lorin make, but they were cursed.”
Melenius’s winds rippled with the bitter irony of Nevia’s words, and she pressed his hand to her heart.
“I know, husband. Still, tell them that we three Lorin gathered here to divine the meaning of these objects, to learn the nature of the curse. In the process, the Senate floor was destroyed and Garalach killed.”
“And what curse shall I say we found?” Melenius leaned Nevia against him and stroked her hair. “And why here?”
“Here because this is where Garalach summoned us. Doubtless he thought there would be no risk.” Nevia paused, enjoying the feel of Melenius’s chest beneath her cheek. “And, truly, he probably thought I would not dare to enter here.”
“Idiot, to think there was something you would not dare.”
“As for the curse, tell them that it is a curse against Belamal.” Nevia closed her eyes. She felt somewhat better, but she knew that any elemental exertion would overset her again. “Not against him personally, but against any one who would overthrow the Kindor people. It is an ancient curse, and we were not able to break its power. But Belamal will press on regardless.”
Melenius nodded, and Nevia knew he understood that she was preparing the people of Nirrion for Belamal’s end. “He will burn out, won’t he, my snowflake?”
“Yes.” Nevia leaned up and kissed Melenius’s mouth. “Now I must go. I will have to risk returning in your litter, but there is no help for that.”
Melenius helped her into the litter, and she watched as he remained behind to face the senatorial guard. She tied the curtains of the litter shut. “Take me to Belamal’s house.” She lay back and closed her eyes. Weariness swept her away, and the waves that bore her to sleep smelled of Garalach.
****
When Nevia awoke the sun was high in the sky. She had no appetite, but for that she did not blame Garalach. Since her first bout of nausea in Rendoras, her pregnancy had taken her desire for food. She forced herself to eat, however. She withdrew from her chamber to the peristyle to eat. Though she no longer had the impulse to seek out air and water that had characterized her before her joining, still, those elements caressed her with the touch of Melenius. She was eating her fourth bunch of grapes when one of the few attendants she had left came running in.
“Domina, His Radiance is here to see you.”
“Show him in.” Nevia did not bother to rise as her father entered the peristyle.
“Daughter, you look well.” Judal did not wait to be offered a chair. He took a seat on a richly carved wooden chair near Nevia’s head. “I heard of your exploits in the Senate hall last night.”
Nevia knew that Belamal’s slaves hung on her every word. “Garalach summoned us there. I had intended to retire early, but when something of such potential danger touches my husband, nothing can keep me away.”
“Your husband.” Her father’s repetition of her words told Nevia that he understood she did not refer to Belamal. “Leave us.” With an imperious wave of his hand, Judal dismissed Nevia’s attendants, and she did not bother to gainsay him. They reminded her of Belamal, and she disliked their presence.
“So what is it that you wish to ask me?” Nevia started in on a fifth bunch of grapes. They were deep blue ones from Hinathlor province, and they were the only thing she could keep down before evening.
“What is the meaning of that rigmarole that Firin fed the Senators this morning?” Judal leaned forward, his voice low. “I know perfectly well that you would not have met there for Belamal’s sake, and I know that Garalach would not have been in the same chamber with both you and Firin for a mountain of gold sentinels.”
For an instant, Nevia’s elements were shot through with surprise, a reaction invisible, of course, to her father. How could he have known about Garalach’s affection for her? But the answer presented itself almost as quickly as the question. Judal would not have trusted Garalach to help him in keeping them apart without having been given a good reason. And in that instant Nevia understood.
“Garalach gave you the potions that you used against me and my husband.”
“Slow to realize it, weren’t you?” Judal spread his hands. “Will you not offer me water?”
“No.” Nevia sat up. Her own
cup was next to the bowl of grapes, and she took a long drink from it.
“So, Garalach sprang upon you then?”
“Hardly.” Nevia shook her head. “You do not think I was unaware of his treachery until last night? You wound me, Father.”
“Ah. You only did not know that he was my creature?” Judal steepled his fingers, and Nevia wished she could remember what that signified. “That is, at least, something. I would have hated to be forced to think so ill of your acumen.”
“What do you want?” Nevia was too weary to exchange verbal thrusts with her father.
“I want to know the meaning of what really happened in the Senate. I want to know how much of truth there is in the danger to Belamal, and I want to know if you still cherish that idiotic affection for your bestial Faror.”
“You can tongue Elendrie’s dirty ring for the answer.” Nevia rose to her feet. “I am a married woman now, Father, and you have no say in how I conduct myself. I answer to only one man, and he is not you.”
Judal nodded. His blue eyes narrowed, and Nevia wondered if the expression in them meant pride or anger or hatred. Her father’s emotions showed so little that she had almost no reference for them. “If that is the way you see it.” He waved her back to her seat, and from sheer wonderment she obeyed. “So, daughter, it is above a month you have been married.” Nevia noted his skill; the time could refer either to Melenius or to Belamal. “Tell me, do the Akar have another glorious scion to look forward to?”
“Another question.” She reached for yet another bunch of grapes. “And still I run short of answers for you.”
Judal rose. “Your mother ate nothing but Hinathlor grapes for a month when she was pregnant with your brother. Farewell, daughter.”
He was gone, and Nevia lay back down on the divan. Her head ached, and she wanted to see Melenius. Only his wild fucking could banish her headaches, and his absence made her already inflamed elements hurt. She closed her eyes. She did not know when he would be able to come to her. This was unendurable. Garalach’s curse had changed many things, but two things remained unaltered: her need to be daily with Melenius and the necessity of hiding her pregnancy from the city at large.
Nevia sighed in her airs. When Melenius came to her she would tell him what they needed to do. In the meantime, she would sleep.
****
“Wake, my snowflake.”
Nevia opened her eyes. She heard Melenius’s voice speaking to her in Lorin, but he was not touching her. Recollection came to her. She was in Belamal’s house, a house rife with Belamal’s people.
“Husband.” She spoke in the same tongue. “How did you get them to let you in to see me?” She was still lying on the divan in the peristyle, but the sun was low on the horizon. She felt better, stronger, than since Garalach had first cursed her.
“I told them that the Senate sent by me their thanks for your devotion to Belamal.” Melenius’s waters were choppy with his discomfort. “It is true, but I hate that it is.”
“Belamal is nothing to us.” Nevia smiled. “At least until someone learns I am with child and tells him, and then he would doubtless return to Nirrion, leaving his Kindor wars unfinished, and tear me to pieces.”
Melenius’s anger rose, and he punched one fist into his open hand. “We should still leave Nirrion.”
“We must.” Nevia’s agreement was slow. “But not the whole republic, not now. Only the city.”
“Why do you not wish to go to Faror?” Nevia could sense Melenius’s longing to touch her, and she wished only that he could.
“Until we know for certain that we will be able to lift Garalach’s curse, our first thought must be for our child.” Nevia laid her hand on her still-flat belly. “If we are able to lift it from us both, then we can flee to Faror. If we are able to lift it from you, then you and our child can flee to Faror—”
“Don’t even say that, Nevia!”
She went on. “But if we cannot lift it at all, then we must think of who will raise our child to best advantage.”
“Alaxton’s blood-soaked beard!” Melenius whirled away from her. “How can you speak of this so calmly?”
“And what are you going to do to me for being so unfeeling?” Melenius seemed to feel Nevia’s smile, for he turned to look back at her.
“Ah, so my little snowflake is misbehaving again? Then I will have to ponder on her appropriate discipline. Where shall we meet?”
“I would like to go to the villa where we were married,” said Nevia.
“Impossible.” Melenius’s laughter carried on his winds. “I lost my temper when your father carried you off, and I leveled the place.”
Nevia’s pussy flooded at Melenius’s easy dominance. “I have looked over Belamal’s estate. He has a villa a day’s ride southeast of Nirrion. It has been shut up, however. There are no slaves or attendants in it. I will have it opened, and I will staff it with local people. In two days I will be there. Meet me.”
“I will be counting the hours until then.” All four of Melenius’s elements rumbled with his passion. “After all, I have to think of what your punishment should be for your naughty coldness.”
Nevia felt the answering rise of her own desires at his words, and she resolved to spend the time between now and then in looking over anything she had concerning Lorin curses.
****
Sweat soaked Nevia’s hair to her brow, despite the cold of her skin. Silken ropes bound her wrists and ankles. She lay on her belly on a divan chair, and a small, round cushion was beneath her pelvis. Melenius stood over her, and his cock drilled into her cunt. Her ass was plugged with a heavy, silver ornament of Melenius’s own design. Thin, fine chains were attached to the strawberry-shaped plug, chains that ran up and fastened to her breasts with tight clips. As Melenius drove into her, the pressure on the chains stimulated her nipples, and she screamed out.
“That’s my good girl. Come again for me.” Melenius slapped her buttocks, jostling the plug as he did so. The stimulation of her ass, coupled with the pull on her nipples, sent Nevia over the edge again. She had lost count of her climaxes; she knew only that it had been at least three hours since Melenius had arrived at the villa, and he had taken the time only to bathe before carrying her off to the bedchamber that she had prepared.
“Nevia!” Melenius’s cock rammed into her one final time as he gripped her shoulders. She felt his shuddering climax as he pumped her full of his cum. The sensation brought on another drenching orgasm, but the wetness of her climax was poisoned for Nevia. It bore the stench of Garalach, and she felt him present in the bed she shared with Melenius, just as Garalach had once offered to be. It was some minutes before Nevia could speak.
“Wash us.” Melenius snapped his fingers at the nearest slave, then bent to untie Nevia’s wrists and ankles. “Are you all right, my snowflake?” He removed the silver strawberry and unclipped her breasts. His concern wrapped her like the blanket he draped over her as soon as she was washed. “You said that you would be able to handle this, but you are with child—”
“I am fine, Melenius.” Nevia laid her fingers on his lips. “My body, at least, is fine.”
“What do you mean?” Melenius waved the slaves away and gathered Nevia into his arms. He carried her from the divan to the bed and laid her down. He lay down beside her and pulled her close to him. She inhaled his scent, a combination of the bitter smell of coffee, the Faror beverage he drank daily, and his own wild-wind.
“Now that we are comfortable, Nevia, tell me what you mean.” Melenius held her against his chest, and she twined her fingers in the thick black hair there.
“You know that Garalach’s curse was unto death.”
“Yes, but you have been looking into a way to lift it.” Melenius pressed his lips to her brow.
“As have you.” Nevia did not look at him. She addressed his left nipple instead. “You have found nothing.”
“But you have, surely?”
“The poison of Garalach’s curse
fills all my elements, building upon itself. Could I suppress my elements completely, even if only for a few minutes, it would be enough. The curse would instantly starve without any fuel to feed it. But I cannot. No Lorin can. Our elements are ourselves. You know.”
Melenius’s grip on her tightened. “No, Nevia.”
“I would not mind so much if it did not mean leaving you.” Nevia buried her face in Melenius’s chest that he might not see her elemental tears.
“Gods, Nevia.” Melenius pulled her face away, and she saw the disbelief in his airs turn to a tenderness so great it shook her to her earth. “You love me more than I ever imagined anyone could, and I’m glad that our elements are bonded. You’re not leaving me. You hear me? If you die, then your elements will pull me with you – and I’m glad of it!”
“Then Garalach won.” Nevia’s tears filled her elements. “I failed to save you.”
“Garalach failed.” Melenius kissed her cheeks, her brow, her nose. “He tried to murder me secretly, so he could comfort my grieving widow. You prevented it. You saved me from that, and Garalach died, as he so richly deserved.”
“And our baby?”
“I will think of something, my snowflake. Don’t worry about our baby. If we can’t raise him, I will find someone who can.”
Nevia relaxed into Melenius’s arms. This was what her father could never know, the bliss of trust. She trusted Melenius. He loved her; he was strong and brave and good. He would find a way to look after their child, and she did not have to think of anything. She was Melenius’s wife. That was enough for a lifetime.
Chapter Twenty
Melenius pulled aside the curtain just far enough to see that they were drawing near the walls of Nirrion. The rocking motion of the litter and the steady stamping of the slaves’s soft boots through thick snow must have sent Nevia into a deep sleep. Melenius reached over from where he lounged on embroidered pillows and tapped her shoulder.
Nevia’s eyes fluttered open, and Melenius’s waters churned in sadness. It had been many months since the frost had fled from her eyes. They were a dull greyish-blue, altogether lacking that spirited elemental expression that had first drawn Melenius’s admiration. Her skin was hot to the touch; since autumn, she had burned with a constant fever, another sign that her elements were out of balance. Her waters were but a trickle, her flames no more than a flicker.
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