by Mary Wine
“No one sleeps inside the palace.”
The dress sagged, and they pushed her forward so they might draw it over her head. The silk rustled as it was taken away. The stiff petticoat went next, but Janette jumped away when they tried to loosen her corset.
“I’ll sleep in it,” she muttered with another look at the flimsy walls. Being daring enough to go without it in her chambers back at the Solitary Chamber was very different from being undressed completely here.
“No.”
There was only a single lamp in the hut, but it cast enough light for Janette to see the wrinkles on her nose. The woman stiffened and shook her head. She was the oldest one among them and the other girls looked to her for direction.
“No good for the heart.” She patted her chest. “The heart must have room to beat, not be kept inside a steel cage.”
The other girls instantly responded by picking at the laces that bound her. It was a relief to feel the steel bones loosen and release her breasts, but it was also slightly unsettling. Her hair was next. Every last pin was pulled, and her braids were undone as well. Someone began pulling a comb through it until it lay just like the other girls’, straight down her back.
“Good…good,” the woman remarked. She and her companions wore only loose-flowing garments that didn’t even look to be sewn, but the edges overlapped and tied around their necks to cover their breasts.
“Come and wash.”
They tugged her outside to where smooth stones were arranged in a small circle. A small water tower was nearby with a piece of large bamboo running out and to a showerhead. The only light was from the moon, and it cast them all in shades of black and silver. The girls seemed at ease in the night, none of them hesitating.
“Come…come…cool water will feel good.”
Someone tried to pull her chemise over her head. “Oh no, really.” Janette hugged herself to keep the last bit of her dignity. Anyone on the compound might see her.
The older woman shook her head once more. “No good, washing with clothing on. Don’t be like the missionaries. They do not smell very good.”
The others laughed and wrinkled their noses. Janette lost the battle to not smile. Modesty might be considered proper, but it did make for more than one smelly matron.
“This is women’s side of palace grounds. No men will come here. Bad luck for warriors to spend too much time with women. Our spirits will drain their strength so we can produce new life.”
The moment she became distracted, the girls pulled her chemise over her head. One of them untied her knickers and pushed them down her legs. Janette let them take her stockings with a tiny sigh of relief. The stones were cool beneath her feet, and they felt wonderful. Her hair floated down onto her bare skin as the older woman nodded approvingly.
“If your God made you in his image, why do missionaries teach children to think their flesh is sinful?”
“Well…that is an excellent question,” Janette responded.
Water began flowing, saving Janette from having to think. It was cool, but the air was remained warm. Still, goose bumps rose along her limbs, and her nipples puckered into hard points because she was thinking about Darius.
Would he like her without a corset to shape her?
In all the erotic texts, there had been nothing but the natural form of the body.
“You are thinking of your warrior.”
The younger girls all leaned in, their faces bright with curiosity. The older woman offered them a knowing smile.
“The eyes…do not lie.”
She waved her hands at her helpers, and soap was worked through Janette’s hair and over her body. They didn’t miss a single inch of her, making her grateful for the darkness because her cheeks were scarlet by the time they rinsed her.
They brought her a length of toweling, and the warmer climate soon had every drop of water gone.
“Now we go, in case your warrior comes.”
The girls all giggled. They helped her into her chemise before they followed their mistress from the hut, but one hesitated near the wall.
“Sleep here, lady. Very nice for night rest.”
What she pulled away from the wall was a net, or at least it looked like one to Janette. The girl smiled and lay back into the thing. It hung between two of the large support beams that held up the walls of the hut. Once in it, the net curled around her, and she swung gently back and forth.
“This is island way,” she said before standing, then offered a nod and left. Janette stared at the net for a long moment before shaking her head.
Adventure. That’s right. She adored it.
The cord the net was constructed of was quite soft. She spread it out, but it wanted to roll back up, so she sat down and felt a tingle of excitement race through her when the thing took her weight. She swung back and forth for a moment like she’d done on the backyard swing in the summertime. A smile raised her lips as she smothered a giggle.
Lying back into it wasn’t difficult. Soon she was nestled in it, the sides curling up to grant her a sense of security.
It was almost as good as Darius’s embrace. But not quite.
“You look like a fae maiden.”
She gasped but wasn’t frightened. She turned to find Darius in the doorway, illuminated by the moonlight. He lingered there, almost as if he was making sure the native women saw him. Janette gasped again, this time shocked because she realized that was exactly his intention.
“Being seen in my bed…um…hut won’t shame me into marrying you.” Her voice was husky and teasing.
“Ah…” He moved forward, and she noticed he wasn’t wearing anything over his chest. Not a single stitch. She could see the tiny strands of hair covering his breast.
“So you have fallen prey to the temptations of the pagan influence of the islands…” He was teasing her. He closed the distance between them, and her heart accelerated with every slow step he took. “Or might I indulge myself in thinking you have fallen to my skill of seduction?”
He touched her gently, just cupping her hips, but she quivered, sensation flowing through her like fine wine. Her chemise was thin, and the heat from his fingers nearly burned her, but she reached for him, laying her hands on his chest and smoothing a path through the crisp hair.
“Perhaps I want to seduce you.”
He chuckled, guiding her closer and leaning over to press a kiss against her neck. “Among the Islanders, you are the flower I am expected to coax into accepting my seed.” Another kiss and she stretched her chin up so he might trail more of them along her delicate skin.
He drew the chemise over her head. “Maybe I’m a fool to have done the honorable thing to ensure we don’t have offspring until you ask me for them,” he whispered against her ear.
Her belly tightened, a crazy bolt of excitement piercing her. It was an Illuminist man’s responsibility to make sure his seed was sterile until his lover decided she was ready to carry a child. When controlled, the current from Deep Earth Crystals could ensure only planned pregnancies happened.
“You could never be anything less than honorable.”
He slipped his hands over the mounds of her bottom and pulled her against his body so that the hard outline of his cock was pressing against her. He delivered another few kisses up her neck until she felt his warm breath against her ear.
“Ah…but you tempt me, Janette…beyond everything I believe I need to be.”
She couldn’t answer him because he kissed her. It was sweet and needy. This time, Darius savored the moment, sliding his mouth against hers in a slow tasting. Her breasts pressed against his chest, the perfect complement to his harder form. Need was nipping at her, centered deep in her belly this time. She reached for the opening of his trousers, fumbling with the waistband before discovering the method of opening them.
His cock was hard and swollen, jutting out the moment she separated the fabric restraining it. He cupped her head, continuing to kiss her while she stroked his lengt
h, fingering the smooth skin of his member. He shuddered, proving that her touch caused him the same riot of feelings as his did to her.
For the moment, that was all she wanted to think about. The way they affected each other, like two mirrors facing each other. He cupped her breasts, massaging each tender globe before brushing her hard nipples with his thumbs.
“One of these nights, I am going to have all the time necessary to make love to you.” He leaned down and captured one nipple between his lips. She arched her back, offering her flesh to him. Pleasure twisted through her, traveling down to her clit, where it ignited an aching need.
“I have no complaints.” Or any hesitation.
“Because I haven’t been able to show you the difference between sating passion and making love.” He drew in a harsh breath as her grip tightened on his cock. “But I vow to remedy the situation.”
She stretched up onto her toes so she might whisper in his ear.
He slid his hands down her sides until he was clasping her hips. There was urgency in his touch now; she would have sworn she felt a current crackling between them.
He lifted her, and she clasped her legs around his hips. For a moment, his cock was between their bodies while he turned and placed her on the small table near the door. She had only a moment to notice the smooth surface against her bare bottom before he was pressing his member into her. Hard and promising, it burrowed between the slick folds of her flesh until she was once again being stretched.
“Put your hands behind you.”
His voice was edged with need, and she never hesitated. He maintained his grip on her hips, holding her steady for every thrust.
“Close your eyes, Janette, and let it take control.”
She wanted nothing else, and the moment she complied, her body became a receptor. Pleasure was urging her toward the rushing sensation she’d experienced before. Darius increased his pace gradually. By the time delight washed over her, she was straining toward him, desperate for release. It was blinding and tore through her like lightning, and she laughed as it wrung every last bit of strength from her. Darius jerked, and his fingers dug into her hips, but with the proof of his climax, something she craved. His seed filled her before he pulled her close and held her and then, after a few long moments, carried her back to the hammock.
Darius was torn. For the first time in too long, duty didn’t offer him the same reward staying with Janette would. He wanted to join her in the hammock, hold her close, and inhale the sweet scent of her skin. He wanted to spend the dark hours stroking her and letting her awaken to his kiss.
But the need to ensure she was protected was more powerful, growing beyond the confines of duty or position. This was personal. So he spread a blanket over her and moved back into the doorway of the hut. The guards would expect him to remain, but he was not going to do what anyone expected.
Soon…soon, he’d be able to linger, but for tonight, he had someone to kill. He didn’t bother to chastise himself for how violent his ideas were. When it came to Janette, he wouldn’t be taking any chances.
The man who threatened her would die.
***
Janette rubbed her blurry eyes as the horizon began to lighten. Darius was nowhere in sight, and she found herself looking at the floor of the hut for any clue that he had actually been there. Her chemise was lying on the floor, sending color into her cheeks as she recalled exactly how it had ended up there. She was as bare as Eve beneath a thin blanket. She sat up and glared at her corset, trying to decide how to get back into it.
Maybe Decima would be up.
With a little hop, she landed on her feet and pulled her chemise off the floor and put it on. She reached for the corset off the shelf where it was resting. Beneath it, there was a folded envelope. A tingle of apprehension went down her spine.
Who could have left it?
Maybe Darius had left it.
Happiness filled her, and she picked it up, intent on reading the contents. But her eyes widened with horror when a small cameo slid out of it, the delicate carved-bone flowers on its front ingrained in her memory from the countless times she’d seen the cameo around Sophia’s neck.
My dear Miss Aston,
You shall discover a way to conceal yourself in the king’s party to escape the compound and join my compatriots on the north shore, or your friend shall pay the price of your disobedience. Alert your lover, and I shall be happy to put a bullet between her eyes before you can reach us, which will leave me ample opportunity to put a second one into the head of your Guardian Lawley. You will bring this note with you to prove you did not leave it for your lover to use as evidence to clear your name. Once you join me, the Illuminists will never welcome you back. In case you are considering acting the loyal Illuminist, be sure my next correspondence will include one of Miss Stevenson’s toes.
Doctor Nerval
Her belly cramped, as though she might retch, but all the muscles did was fill her with pain. Nausea threatened to strangle her as she lifted the cameo, desperately searching for any hint of deception.
But she recognized it. Even the delicate silk ribbon that was creased where it had been tied behind her friend’s neck.
Sophia.
Janette dropped the corset back on the shelf and reached for her skirt. She shrugged into the jacket and braided her hair before looking for her shoes. Memories of the clinic flooded her mind, tormenting her with details of just how horrible her friend’s plight might be.
Well, she was going to do something about it. The doctor would keep his word that he would kill Sophia; she had no doubt about it. So she’d have to go alone and discover a way to free her friend. She refused to allow herself to worry. No, she was no longer the child her father had left at the clinic.
She was an Illuminist Pure Spirit.
Which meant she had to think when the times were hard. She looked around the hut and pulled loose one of the palms that made up the walls. It was dry and brittle. She stripped the dead leaves from it and knelt. Using the end of it, she began to write in the moist dirt floor, copying the letter word for word. Once she was finished, she left the cameo near the last line.
She stood and left before the dawn was finished breaking.
***
“You’re going to want to get up and close those trousers.” Darius Lawley spoke from the doorway of the hut Marshal Agapitos had spent the night in. Darius enjoyed the moment of shock on the Marshal’s face, savoring it as the man’s face contorted with rage.
Agapitos closed his pants and snapped at Darius as the woman he’d been enjoying rolled over the back of the hammock. She landed neatly on her feet and hurried out of the hut.
“You have no right to invade my privacy.”
“I have every right,” Darius muttered softly. The early-dawn light illuminated the satisfaction on his face.
“How dare you?”
“You are to be questioned before the council of the local Solitary Chamber, Marshal Agapitos,” Darius informed him. “Don’t bother looking for your squad of Guardians. I have spoken with their superiors. They no longer answer to your authority, but to mine.”
“You had no right!” Agapitos insisted. “I am a Marshal.”
“You are a suspected Helikeian,” Darius returned. “One I am going to personally enjoy bringing to justice. You and your father were the only members who testified against Janette’s mother. Because you share blood, that is not sufficient. You tainted an innocent woman to separate her from the Order.”
Past Darius, he saw Guardians moving outside, searching the compound for Janette and Grainger. But for the moment, none of them were watching what was happening inside the hut.
It was his chance, his opportunity to continue on for his cause. Agapitos reached into his pants pocket. Inside was a piece of level-four crystal carefully enclosed in a leather case. He always kept it near, just in case he needed it. Pushing the top leather piece aside, he held on to the other half of the case, which was a sewn in
to a handle. Pulling the crystal from his pocket, he shoved it toward Darius, aiming for the spot on his chest over his heart. It would burn through the chest wall and into the vital organ in mere seconds.
“You are going to die,” he hissed as the crystal made contact, and he struggled to maintain his grip on it. “The Pure Spirit is ours, as surely as if we had bred her.”
Pain burned into him. Darius reacted in a split second, striking out at the most vulnerable spot within reach. His training took control as he felt his chest burning. Agapitos staggered back, a solid blow delivered to his neck, crushing the bones. He gurgled and struggled to suck breath into his chest. Bright red blood coated his lips instead. His eyes bulged before he fell to his knees, the crystal rolling across the floor of the hut.
Darius rubbed the front of his chest, staring at the scorched fabric of his vest and shirt. Blisters decorated his skin, but he welcomed the pain. It meant he was alive.
“The bastard could have easily killed you,” Lykos muttered as he arrived. Bending down, he picked up the crystal, careful to only touch the handle.
“Or any of us, for that matter.”
Lykos studied the damage to his chest for a moment, but that wasn’t what kept his lips in a hard line. His comrade was deadly serious when he made eye contact with him.
“Janette is missing. Along with Grainger and Bion.”
Darius felt something move through him that he hadn’t admitted to feeling in a very long time. It tore through his discipline and settled in his gut, where it felt like it was festering. He stared at Lykos, waiting for his friend to smirk and make some sarcastic comment to prove it was only a jest.
Instead, his fellow Guardian looked grim, his eyes full of another emotion Darius wasn’t accustomed to either of them being caught in the hold of. His friend’s eyes were full of defeat, but Darius admitted that what he was suffering…was fear.