“A guard holding the princess he serves… Your father would not approve of such impropriety,” he grinned.
He seemed gaunt and weary but in good humour. His facial hair was shaved close to the skin in the Karschan way, and now that he wore their black armour he seemed almost one of them. Only his stature, towering above all the others, set him apart from his travelling companions.
“Oh, Althius! Why did you take so long?”
“We were caught in the storm. I tried to go back for you, princess, but the Karschan men were under strict orders. I have never known men who obey commands so unflinchingly. We carried the course through the blizzard and were forced to make a detour to a village when we ran out of provisions.”
Adrienna could not help the urge to grasp the warrior’s hand, squeezing it tightly.
“Thank you for coming back to me, Althius. I have missed you. We must speak — I have news to share with you.”
“Of course, Princess Adrienna,” Althius looked around. “Now?”
“No — no! You must rest and eat! Have you only just arrived?”
“Just now.”
“Oh, Althius,” Adrienna swallowed hard, pushing back the wave of emotions that strangled her. “I am so happy you are here.”
“And I, princess. All will be well. I believe it now.”
“I believe it too, Althius.”
Adrienna looked up when she spotted Sergevni moving through the crowd. He was overseeing the unloading of the carts, greeting his soldiers with quiet pleasure in his eyes. Once finished, he strode over to the edge of the courtyard where Adrienna and Althius stood.
“Welcome to Sevalensk,” he said to Althius with a bow. “You have made a favourable impression on my men, Althius of Veritier.”
“And they on me, my lord,” Althius returned the bow. He spoke with complete sincerity. “They have been worthy companions.”
“And they shall still be, if you wish them to be,” Sergevni said. “I have arranged quarters for you near Adrienna’s own rooms, but there will always be a place for you in the barracks, if you should wish to reside and train with the soldiers.”
“It would be an honour,” Althius said.
Turning to Adrienna, Sergevni said courteously, “If you are content to let your guard rest awhile, Princess Adrienna, perhaps you will agree to accompany me on a trip into the city.”
The naked lust she had seen in his eyes the previous day was gone — or else under steely control. Adrienna smiled.
“Of course, Your Imperial Highness,” she said sweetly. “Nothing would please me more.”
She glanced at Althius, who gave her a quizzical look. With a little blink of her eyes, she said to him, “You and I have much to discuss later, Althius. For now, please rest. You deserve it.”
Althius nodded and was led away by pages. Adrienna watched him leave, her spirits lifted, her heart warm. She was impatient to tell him about her fleet, about going to save Aster. But the old warrior had been travelling for so long now, and he seemed so tired. It could wait. Besides, her future husband wanted to show her the city.
Giving Sergevni her hand, Adrienna said, “Well? Shall we go?”
He looked at her hand, the angles of his face etched sharper than ever by the pale daylight. Though he wore gloves, his touch sent a hot flutter through Adrienna’s stomach. She forced herself to keep her courteous smile pinned firmly to her lips. It was better that he should not know how troubled she was by his touch. It would make it easier to score victories against him.
But Sergevni had been doing his best to test her endurance lately. This was no exception. Pulling her closer, he stood face to face with her, his head tilted, his golden eyes burning darkly.
“I am pleased to find you so docile today,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “I expected you to rail and protest.”
“There is no need for belligerence between allies,” she replied, smiling up into the flame of his gaze. “Especially not allies who undress and kiss one another.”
His eyes darkened.
“You’ve a way for twisting the truth with your words,” he said, arching an eyebrow.
“You’ve a way for blinding yourself so utterly that you could never recognise the truth when you see it.”
Though her tone was light, her words were earnest. Sergevni might be a deft and skilful leader, but he had a proclivity for deceiving himself.
The prince worked assiduously to persuade himself that he only desired her for a pawn, that their marriage would be in name only. And yet the desire in his kiss had been so ardent that it had borne no denial. Even Sergevni, so dissembling with his emotions, could not conceal the want that burned within him. Adrienna had felt the flame of it slip between his lips and through hers.
They said no more, for a carriage had pulled into the courtyard, drawn by two black horses. It was a simple enough carriage, built with dark wood, the door framed by two small windows with diamond panes. Inside, the seats were narrow but cushioned and covered with furs.
Still holding Adrienna’s hand, Sergevni helped her up onto the step. Adrienna settled into the furs of her seat and watched with amusement as Sergevni folded himself into the carriage. He was too tall for it, and when he was finally sitting across from her, his body seemed to fill the small space.
The door closed, and shortly after the carriage jolted into motion. Adrienna sat across from Sergevni, observing him unimpaired as he gazed out of the window with a slight frown. He was quite handsome, truly. The longer she knew him, the more his handsomeness surprised her, as though it was a thing that he had kept hidden and she was discovering against his will.
Just like his words and actions, everything about him was made of contradictions. His limbs were slim yet hard with muscles. His features were sharp as a blade yet his eyelashes were long, almost feminine. His lips were straight and severe, and yet the way it curled into smirks was lush and carnal. His movements were forever controlled, precise, efficient — and yet his actions betrayed his lack of assurance whenever he was around her.
How could he kiss her with such crushing dominance and yet not have the courage to tell her he wanted her? It was the thing which tormented Adrienna above all things. Her need to hear him say the truth was growing everyday more desperate, more obstinate.
Sergevni turned away from the window, meeting her gaze. In the silence of the carriage, Adrienna could almost hear her heart crash against her ribs, threatening to sunder itself.
She wanted to ask him for the truth, but she knew it would be a vain entreaty. How could Sergevni tell her the truth when he himself did not know it?
“Have I been uncivil towards you?” he asked suddenly. “You look upon me as though you wish to strike me dead.”
She did, though not for the reasons he thought. Forcing herself to relax into her seat, Adrienna dropped her head back against the cushion, peering at him with a slight smile.
“Perhaps if you train me well enough, I might actually be able to one day.”[3]
“It would take you a divine gift from the saints to ever be able to best me in combat,” Sergevni said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
He seemed to be in a pleasant mood, and was being particularly loquacious. Perhaps the return of his soldiers had lifted his spirits the way Althius’s presence had lifted hers.
“I might never best you in combat,” she said archly. “But any man can be killed in his sleep.”
His eyes narrowed, the hazel-gold of them glinting in the shifting shadows of the carriage.
“I never imagined that there would be such danger in sharing a bed with my own wife.”
“I suppose there is always danger in sharing a bed with a stranger,” she said. “Even a stranger one is married to.”
“Except that we are not quite strangers anymore, and you have already warned me of your sinister intentions.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice soft. She had the delicious feeling that she was both seducing him and being seduced. A
nd yet she had at the same time the heady feeling that her threats were not entirely idle. “Sharing a bed with me might be deadly.”
“No,” he murmured back. “Sharing a bed with you will be perfectly safe.”
“What if I murder you in your sleep?”
“What if I bind you to our bed?”
Sergevni’s words shimmered with an alluring promise. Now Adrienna leaned forward, and her throat shuddered beneath the silver sun embroidered there.
“I would scream for help.”
He leaned forward too, closing the space between them.
“I can think of many ways to silence you.”
Her lips parted, but she bit down, forcing them shut. He was close enough to touch, close enough that she could smell him. His scent was perfumed and metallic, sword-iron and body heat. The air between them trembled with the promise of every kiss he could steal.
“You speak ever so boldly, Sergevni, for a man who is so afraid to act.”
“There is nothing I could to do you that I would be too afraid to do,” he drawled.
Every beat of her heart was violent, her hands were curled into the furs, keeping her braced.
“Then tell me what you wouldn’t be afraid to do to me.”
The lascivious audacity of her own words surprised her, but she waited with bated breath for him to meet her challenge.
“I would not be afraid to kiss you again, as I did yesterday,” he said, quite coolly. “I would not be afraid to grab you and hold you, to lick your pretty breasts and part your silky thighs. I would not be afraid to tie you to my bed, to take you like a man takes a wife, then to take you like a man takes a painted courtesan. All of these things I would do fearlessly, Adrienna.”
His gaze was unflinchingly direct, piercing her through like a spear. There was no hesitation in his voice, and his tone was low and firm. He spoke like a soldier, not a prince, and the aggression in his words was laced with a brutal desire that eclipsed the gold of his eyes.
“Then why don’t you?” her question slipped unbidden from her lips, and her eyes widened as soon as she spoke it.
“Because I am not normally the kind of man to debauch innocents.” He tilted his head. “Do you wish to be debauched?”
“Yes.” She responded without hesitation. “Do you wish to debauch me?”
“Yes.”
She had not expected him to meet her honesty with his.
“Then ask me to kiss you,” she said, her voice catching.
His gloved hands slid up her arms and wrapped around her neck, sending waves of shivers through her.
“Kiss me, Adrienna,” he breathed against her lips.
“That’s a command,” she smirked, “not a—”
His lips captured hers, erasing her words. His hands clasped her neck, his thumbs resting against her jaw as he tilted her head against his. His lips were like flames against hers, a kiss burning enough to set her entire body aflame. A tiny moan escaped her throat and she parted her lips, allowing him to deepen their kiss.
A coiling heat was gathering deep in her belly, sliding to the molten core of pulsing need between her legs. She shuddered and sighed, her fingers curling into fists against his chest, crumbling the stiff fabric of his coat.
Then his hands were pushing her away, tilting her head back. His mouth slipped like silk from hers to her jaw, tracing a line of kisses there. He kissed the hollow between her jaw and her neck, then he kissed her neck, sucking softly on the delicate skin there. Tendrils of pleasure unfurled through Adrienna, and she arched back into the cushioned seats, her throat and bosom offered up to his hungry mouth.
With a stifled groan, Sergevni’s hands flew from her neck, his arms wrapping around her waist. Adrienna gasped, holding on tight to him as he pulled her closer, forcing her to straddle his lap. The position was intimate, lascivious, her thighs parted around his body, his face buried against her throat. His hot, moist kisses burned against her skin, following the swelling curve of her breasts as she panted.
Adrienna arched against Sergevni, her hands gripping his shoulders, her head thrown back. A torturous need ached between her legs, and she undulated and writhed in frustration, seeking release.
Then Sergevni’s hand was fisting in her skirts, pulling it up. His palm found her leg, moved over the fabric of her stocking, finding the silken flesh of her thigh. Still his hand moved up, her skirts caught over his arms and lifted by his movement, until his finger found the curve of her buttock. His fingers dug into the tender flesh there, drawing a whimper from Adrienna.
A sudden rapping against the carriage door snapped Adrienna out of the pleasure that clouded her mind. She looked up at the carriage door in shock, her movement echoed by Sergevni. It was only then that they realised the carriage had stopped moving.
Sergevni looked back at Adrienna, biting his lip. A furious anger flashed in his eyes, quickly quelled by his iron will. Setting her back down upon her seat, he pulled her skirt down and straightened his coat.
“It seems we lost track of time,” he said. His voice was rough, almost broken. “We must have arrived at the city.”
Adrienna nodded. Her heart was still beating madly, and she struggled to calm the cadence of her breath. She smoothed her skirts and brushed back her hair, quelling the frustrated desire that smouldered within her.
Sergevni was pushing the door open and climbing out, impassive as a gargoyle on a cathedral tower. He courteously offered her his hand, but instead of helping her down the carriage step, he pulled her against him, lifting her from the carriage to set her upon the ground.
She cast him a quizzical glance, surprised. But the sight of the city soon claimed her attention, for they had arrived at Sant Azhatta, the capital of Karscha.
It was a magnificent city, larger than Hawksmoor and wildly different: above the black chasm of a deep river, aqueducts and bridges gave way to a rising skyline of domes and spires. Compared to the severe grey of stones in Hawksmoor, this was a city resplendent with colours. Blue and green and yellow roofs tipped and trimmed with gold, distant facades painted red and orange. Under the pale Karschan sun, the cold light of day turned warm and welcoming over the city.
The carriage had stopped near a bridge, and Sergevni led Adrienna over it. To her surprise, he offered her his arm, and she laced hers through, her throat still fluttering from his embrace.
He was a conscientious guide, patient and knowledgeable. They strolled through great cobbled streets and beneath white and blue archways, passing shops selling furs, mantles and gowns, merchants of fruits and honeyed cakes, tea-shops and taverns. The smell of smoke, snow and honey mingled in the air, floating on a lazy breeze.
Sergevni named the bridges and quarters, and pointed out the guilds of Sevalensk. The perfume-makers and goldsmiths, the painters and bookmakers. After a few hours he stopped by a great court surrounded by long, low buildings. Everywhere, timber was piled, and men busied themselves around the courtyard.
“This,” Sergevni said, “is the shipyard. They are building your fleet.”
Adrienna’s heart froze, and she stared at Sergevni in shock. She had not expected him to renege on his promise — but she had not expected him to be so forthright. She should have known he would take immediate action. Sergevni’s efficiency and efficacy was never to be doubted.
“Thank you,” she said, unable to find any other words to express the profound gratitude she felt.
Sergevni greeted the shipmakers, thanking them for their labour. He showed Adrienna the ships, graceful structures of polished wood. Adrienna touched the hulls reverently; these ships would make a small but powerful fleet. They would take her to Aster.
Afterwards, Sergevni took Adrienna to a large tavern from which poured the music of violas and cymbals. Entering the hall, they found hogs roasting over open flames, great tables laden with pitchers of ale and baskets bearing loaves of dark bread still steaming from their ovens. There, they ate heartily, sharing bread and meat. As they did, Sergevni
explained the history and importance of the city.
“You will need to know Sant Azhatta well. Aside from the palace, it is your main seat of power, and it is the center of all trade and business in Karscha.”
Adrienna nodded. It was a beautiful city — she would not resent the time it would take to learn of it. She listened to Sergevni’s tales with unfeigned interest, resolving to find out more about the guilds and quarters when she could.
Later, once night began to fall, Sergevni lead her back to the bridge where their carriage awaited. Past the bridge, the black river slithered away between pale banks and disappeared amongst snow-covered hills. In the distance, low mountains rose darkly, their grey glaciers tinged violet in the light of dusk. Lamps had been lit along the bridge, flickering golden light in the growing darkness.
Nightfall had brought with it an icy breeze that crept like clawing hands down Adrienna’s back. She pulled her mantle tighter around herself, gazing out at the river and beyond it. It was a strange country. Just like Sergevni, it was full of contradictions: a wild expanse of forests and mountains and tundras, and yet at the heart of it was the most ornate and elegant city Adrienna had ever seen.
Looking back at Sant Azhatta, she saw black pointed pine-tops and golden spires pike the dusky horizon, splitting the earth from the sky. It was a sight of breathtaking beauty.
Sergevni stood at her side, following the line of her gaze.
“You will rule over it all,” he said.
“It is a strange prospect,” she replied.
She glanced at him. His hazel eyes, green flecked with gold, took on a wolfish hue in the blaze of the setting sun. The low rays etched out his features like paint on a canvas; carving out the hollows of his cheeks, the severity of his mouth and the sharpness of his jaw. His regality was unquestionable, and yet he seemed rueful, almost hunted.
“The thought of ruling Karscha has haunted me my entire life.”
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