by Ines Johnson
Until now.
Emet couldn’t fathom why this was happening? How this was happening?
Lady Alyss had shown up in that dress today. She’d gotten it from Adom. Emet hadn’t thought she’d lower herself to come to a shop owned and operated by males, but perhaps she had. And if she had, she had to know that Adom was Emet’s bond mate.
But Adom knew who she was too. Emet told him her name last night.
Emet wanted answers immediately as he looked between the two. But he couldn’t get his mouth to work. His heart was having trouble beating in his chest. He’d nearly lost his friend to a similar situation as the one on display before him. He’d walked beside his lover when they both left the Pleasure Temples. He’d supported his husband as he pursued his dream of becoming a respected artist. Emet had thought Adom supported him too, but…
Emet’s feet carried him away, down the hall and into their shared bedroom.
Emet sat on the bed. His mind awhirl, not holding on to anyone thought.
“Em?”
Emet looked up to see Adom standing in the doorway. Adom’s face turned from the artist high he always had after leaving his studio and into concern and finally guilt.
“You saw?”
Emet couldn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He and Adom had had wordless conversations since they were young boys. He just couldn’t comprehend why they hadn’t had a conversation about what he just saw before it got this far.
“She’s gone.” Adom came into the room. He had a rag in his hands. The rag had gotten much of the paint off his hands, but now Adom worried the rag between his fingers, scrubbing away the evidence trapped under his nails.
“Its not what you think,” Adom said.
“Tell me what I’m thinking?” Emet’s voice was breathless more than angry. “Because I can’t seem to form a single thought.”
“She agreed to it. She begged me to. She wanted it.”
So Adom thought Emet worried about the lady’s consent. He wasn’t. “She’s my adversary.”
Adom blinked. “Right. I know.”
“You bound and suspended my adversary. One of the most powerful ladies in the city who is intent on taking me down along with the rights of men. A lady that can easily have you thrown in prison, and likely will because she’s playing some kind of game-“
“She’s not,” Adom insisted. “I can’t explain to you how I know, but she’s not playing a game, Emet.”
Emet blinked rapidly. He struggled to bring the man he loved into focus.
“When she saw the dress she…” Adom paused, searching for words. “If you could’ve just seen the look on her face you’d-”
“Oh, I saw the look on her face when she flounced into the Chambers. I only wish you had seen the look on her face when she couldn’t puzzle out why I didn’t succumb to her girlish charms or that I knew how to use big words. She thinks men are mindless creatures whose only desires are to be led about by women.”
Adom sighed. “I don’t think that’s what’s truly in her heart.”
“But you know for certain what’s in my heart,” Emet said to the man whom he’d stood by through thick and thin. “You know what’s important to me, why I fight. And you kept this from me. How long has this been going on?”
“She’s the girl in the red painting.”
The red painting? The painting of the Goddess laying on the earth. He’d painted that months ago. Emet’s fingers tightened on the quilt spread across their bed. Adom had made it from their monk robes as a bonding gift. They’d taken vows as monks together in their youth, and then they took vows to each other as men. “You’ve been lying to me for three months.”
“No.” Adom knelt before him, eyes pleading. “I saw her three months ago when I went to Jian’s to give Lady Chanyn her present. I didn’t know who she was, but I couldn’t get her out of my mind. So I painted her. The gallery patroness loved the pieces. She wanted more. And then like magic, Alyss turned up to buy the dress. It all happened so fast.”
“Like magic? The women of her family are treacherous. They’ll do anything to get this bill passed.”
“Not Alyss-"
“She’s blinded you. Just like she does all men to get her way.”
Adom hung his head. Emet almost reached out to him. He couldn’t stand to see Adom upset. But Adom wasn’t looking at the upset he’d caused Emet. In pursuit of his own agenda, he’d likely dashed Emet’s dreams. What had Lady Alyss gleaned from Adom about how Emet planned to defeat the Insemination Bill?
“I’ll put a stop to it,” Adom said. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. For what it's worth, even if she harbored some secret plan, I think she’s a closet artist. She knows more about color than I do. And she’s aroused by the ropes. I thought she might orgasm from the sound of the pencil on the canvas.”
Adom smiled. But wiped it away when he saw Emet’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Adom said again. “I was going to tell you. I wasn’t going to let her in this afternoon, but I got carried away. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”
Adom reached for him, but Emet pulled away. They rarely fought, and when they did they made up almost instantly. But this? This Emet couldn’t let go of immediately.
“I think you’re only sorry you got caught.”
“Em-“
“When you get in that painting mode, you don’t think about anyone but the canvas. So don’t let me interrupt your thoughts. Why don’t you spend the night in your studio near your paintings.”
Adom opened his mouth to protest, but then turned and went out of the room.
Emet slumped back onto the mattress. Even flat on his back the world still spun around him. He could barely grasp onto any thought save one. Lady Alyss bound in Adom’s knotted dress, suspended from a bondage rig with her eyes closed in rope bliss.
He didn’t know what kind of game was she playing at, but she’d just raised the stakes.
11
Alyss didn’t need to open her eyes to see the sun had risen. She felt the rays press into her face, her shoulders, her legs. The weight of the light cracked open the surface of her being. The bright tendrils reached into the chrysalis of her self. It wrapped around her soul and pulled.
Alyss opened her eyes. Her hands went to her shoulders, her thighs, her heart. There was an itch on her skin though she’d bathed and oiled herself before going to bed last night. She’d had to wash to scrub away the evidence of the paint.
She sat up now. She scratched at the itch at her elbow, then on down to her wrist. She stopped there, feeling the indentations in her skin from the previous night; the marks left by Adom’s ropes.
When she came home last night, she couldn’t sleep for all the energy running through her body. After Adom freed her from the ropes and massaged the kinks from her wrists, Alyss had expected all her worries and weights to resettle. They hadn’t. The sense of weightlessness, of freedom, remained. On her way home she’d gotten a burst of creative energy as though the ropes had freed her. She’d picked up a box of colored pencils and paints from a store. She snuck them into the house as though she were sneaking in a lover. She closed and locked her bedroom door and then lay on the floor all night wrapped up in her artwork. Before dawn, she shoved all the drawings into a dress bag in her closet. The servants weren’t allowed to touch her garments without her express permission. Her Mother and Grand Mother had no care for clothes outside of their basic functionality of covering their modesty. Her drawings were safe. No one would go in there.
Alyss went into her closet now and grabbed a dress of orange solid lines outlined in black. The dress fluttered over her head and came to rest on top of her curves. She went to her dresser to accent the dress with hair clips that resembled a butterflies wings.
Outside her window, a field of green stared back at her. Her Grand Mother’s gardens were once filled with an array of colorful blooms that people came far and wide to see. Alyss had loved waking to the sight when she was a girl. The
best view had been from the nursery she’d shared with her sister. One of her male nannies had said that the garden had been designed by one of the girls’ fathers as a tribute to the Goddess. Neither Merlyn nor Alyss had ever met either of their fathers. Her Mother had sent both males away shortly after Alyss’ conception. Angyla had had two girl offsprings, a feat most women did not achieve in their society. Having no plans to conceive more, Angyla no longer had use for her husbands and sent them away. When both girls made it safely into their teen years without illness or incident, their Grand Mother had the flower garden tribute mowed down, replacing it with practical produce.
This morning, a spot of color in the fields caught Alyss’ eyes. At the edge of the greenery a purple flower, perhaps a violet, struggled to reach the surface and the sun’s rays. But no sooner than Alyss spied the fledging bloom did a shadow overtake it and the ground’s keeper yanked it up by its roots.
Alyss jerked back from the window as though she felt the life-ending effects of having her essence pulled from her own depths. She’d learned at a young age that this household suffered nothing and no one coloring outside of the practical lines set up by its’ matriarchs.
The sound of thunder called from the distance. The bright day and the far reaching rays of the sun would soon be overtaken by a storm. Alyss grabbed a gray wrap to protect herself from the elements outside her doors.
Before leaving her bedroom, she took quick steps to her closet. She shut the door to her wardrobe, enclosing her garments, the pencils, paints and canvases into the darkness. She hesitated before finally going out of her bedroom to face the sterile walls and monochrome carpeting of her home. Her skin itched again.
In the dining room, her Mother and Grand Mother sat at the table spooning jam onto their bread.
“Good morning, Mother, Grand Mother.”
“You’re awful chipper today,” said her Mother. “You must be prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” Alyss reached for a bowl of strawberries. When she looked up there was silence.
“Prepared for the debate tomorrow.”
A grumble of thunder sounded outside the window. It sounded closer than it looked a moment ago.
Alyss plastered on a smile. “Of course.”
“I’ve prepared the reports you’ll need for the debate tomorrow. I sent them to your handheld, but I’ve printed the updates."
Alyss hadn’t even looked over the initial reports. Would she have time to look them over before meeting Jaspir later? She could go into the office for a couple of hours before heading over to his studio.
Her Mother dropped the papers before her. “The male you’re up against is a former hound, of all things.”
A hound? Alyss pulled up a picture of the male in her memory. Dark skin like her own, dark hair, dark eyes. A completely unremarkable male. What was his name?
She’d thought hounds were supposed to be desirable. She didn’t find that male desirable. But then again she didn’t find Jaspir or Jian desirable either. They just looked like men. Large bodies, clunky appendages, hair in odd places.
She found Adom easy on the eyes. Likely because in his eyes Alyss saw the search for and the appreciation of beauty.
“It's no wonder he wants an end to this bill,” said her Mother. “It will put his nefarious brothers out of business once and for all.”
Brothers? Something niggled at the back of Alyss mind.
“It's shameful that they allow people who have ulterior motives to argue for bills,” said her Grand Mother.
“Our family has an ulterior motive,” said Alyss. She was met with stoney silence. “I’m arguing the bill for my family’s interest.”
“No,” said her Mother. “Not just for our interests. For yours as well. If you fail at this, your future in the Sisterhood will be over. No novice has ever moved up the ranks to apprentice by losing a debate against a male advocate. If you fail to make this a public matter, we’ll privatize the trials and your next career can be as a human lab rat.”
Rain pelted the windows. Thunder sounded in the distance. Alyss lost her appetite. She wanted more than to leave the room; she wanted to leave her own skin. She ran her nails down the inside of her arms. They stopped at the indentations on her wrists, and her skin cooled.
With barely a farewell to her Mother and Grand Mother, Alyss rose, left the house and got into her conveyance. The clouds overhead moved quickly. She headed into the heart of the city with the storm chasing behind her car.
When Alyss entered the Sisterhood compound, she set a course straight to the Chamber of Science and Health. But her steps faltered at the door. An itch crawled up the base of her spine and settled between her shoulder blades. She tried to shake it off. She had to go into her chamber. If she could just win this argument and pass the bill, she could rise in the ranks. If she rose in the ranks she could get out from under the thumb of her Mother and Grand Mother. She could have an easel that sat in the prime light of her own living room and not in the closet of her bedroom. She could leave her creations out in the open without fear of them being mowed down. There would be no more threats of becoming a human guinea pig, or worse, impregnated. She just had to go in, read her Mother’s report, and find a way to beat her opponent.
From the corner of her eye, Alyss caught a flash of color. Lady Eryka struggled down the hall with a large canvas. The canvas was covered with a bright yellow tarp.
Alyss turned and headed towards the girl. The large canvas was awkward in Lady Eryka’s small arms. Women and males walked by her without so much as a glance. Alyss was nearly to the girl when a pair of strong, brown arms relieved Eryka of the painting.
“Allow me, my lady.”
Eryka startled. She immediately ducked her head, turning her body so that her good side appeared to the male. They stood there for a moment, Eryka and her rescuer. Alyss assumed the male needed direction on where to take the painting, but Eryka was too shy to say a word.
“Look at that, Eryka,” Alyss said. “Chivalry isn’t a twentieth century myth. She’s going in here.” Alyss pointed at the door to the Chamber of Arts and Culture. Honestly if the male knew he carried a canvas in his hands he would’ve guessed as much. But she guessed that level of thinking was too much to ask for a common male.
The male looked up at Alyss. His kind face morphed into distaste.
Alyss frowned. No man had ever looked at her with distaste. Not even the man servant who cleaned her bathroom that time she ate too many wild berries and spent the evening giving them back to the Goddess. Had she stepped into street excrement? Had her hair bow come undone? And then she realized.
“Oh, it's you.”
“Lady Alyss.” Her male adversary inclined his head.
“You realize that you are helping the enemy?”
“Women-kind aren’t the enemy, my lady. It's only those who abuse the power of their station I take issue with.”
His eyes narrowed as though accusing her of standing beside that issue. Alyss had never abused any male. She’d never abused anyone. She opened her mouth to say so, unsure why she felt the need to defend herself before this male. But Eryka beat her to it.
“You’re very kind to offer your assistance, sir.” Eryka’s voice was barely higher than a whisper, her eyes cast down. “Follow me, but please be careful not to let the tarp slip. The artwork…is not meant for public consumption.”
This peaked Alyss’ attention even further. It was only a few steps to the Chamber of Arts and Culture. Eryka’s hands sought the knob and turned. She cast the door wide, wide enough for the male, the painting, and Alyss to come inside.
Alyss cast a glance over her shoulder at the Chamber of Health and Sciences, but her feet carried her forward into the Chamber of Arts and Culture. Once inside, she tried keeping her eyes down, but even the carpeting was a burst of color. Finally, Alyss looked up and exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. They had new canvases and sculptures all over.
Out the window, the
rain stopped. The skies cleared, but Alyss’ eyes fogged as she surveyed the work in the room. There were sculptures of a material she couldn’t identify, likely rare stones and metals no longer found in this part of the world. What she could make out were body parts. She saw a man grasp a woman’s full breasts with both hands. She saw a woman with her thighs wrapped around a man’s torso. She saw the face of man buried between a woman’s thighs, the woman’s head thrown back in a look of rapture.
Alyss’ pulse raced at her wrist where her rope marks were fading. She felt a heaviness settle between her thighs, and she pressed them together to ease the ache.
“I beg your pardon my lady.”
Alyss’ hands jerked behind her back as though to hide something though there was nothing in her hands. She blinked rapidly and turned at the deep male voice. She stood inside the doorway blocking the entrance of the male, the painting in his hands, and Eryka who still held the door wide.
Alyss stepped aside to allow them in. The male allowed Eryka to proceed him and then he shut the door behind him. Alyss stared at the closed door, knowing she should leave and get to work.
She turned into the Chamber. The curtains of the Chamber windows were cast wide open and Alyss felt the sun’s rays dance over her body. The itch in her back, in her hands, was gone.
“You can just set it down over there,” came Eryka’s soft voice.
The male did as instructed.
“Hello, Lady Alyss.”
Alyss looked up to see Sister Mychelle. Today, instead of her purple robes marking her station, she wore the same, orange, black and white colors as Alyss; only in a different pattern.
“We’re twins,” Sister Mychelle grinned looking over Alyss’ dress with approval. “I’ve been working on a series with butterflies. The orange, black, and white pattern belongs to the Monarch butterfly.”