by E G Manetti
Happy to find refuge with Pippa, Lilian follows her to a knot of associates, where she discovers that Vitor is a Euphrates associate in his thirties. On the short size for a man, he tops Pippa by two inches even with her four-inch heels. The wavy blond hair is so pale as to be almost white against lightly bronzed skin that owes some of its color to time spent in the outdoors. The face itself is strong featured with a square jaw and deep-set hazel eyes.
As they arrive, Vitor and Nickolas are discussing the upcoming race. The Euphrates associate owes his weathered complexion to competition in the cutter races that occur on the bay during the summer months. At this disclosure, Nickolas calls Fletcher over. The moon racer was exhilarated by the Seventh Day exhibition and wishes to acquire a cutter for his use when he returns to Fortuna after the Five Warriors’ Festival. A few minutes later, the three men take their leave to go in search of Monsignor Angus’ protégé, Declan, who competes in the cutter races.
Watching the three men disappear through an arch, Lilian wonders if Pippa’s interest in the young man is as much to please her mother as it is to please herself. “Master Vitor seems quite charming.”
Smiling after the retreating figure, Pippa nods. “I do favor the Euphrates agent over Monsignor Horatio’s. Vitor is both more charming and more entertaining. Although, the Matahorn financials associate has that lovely build and he is far more interested in art than Vitor.”
Agent? What says she?
“Of course, I favor Monsignor Lucius’ agent most of all.” Pippa turns back to Lilian. “Had Maman not insisted on my cousin, I would have had Lt. Riordan for my escort. Not only do I favor him, it would have been a good deal of fun to have all three in attendance at once. It is too bad you will be with Monsignor Lucius tomorrow. Were you able to attend the inscription trial at the arena, you could be made known to Riordan. Riordan—”
Gathering her wits, Lilian asks, “Are you saying that Vitor and these other two men are all agents set to spy on you by—”
Pippa shakes her head with a laugh. “Not me. You. Everyone knows I am sadly uncontrolled in my speech. One never knows what I might utter.”
Lilian is speechless. She is not surprised that milord, or others, would be attempting to work Pippa for information. She has always known Pippa to be clever and often insightful, but this shrewdness is impressive and unexpected. “Pippa, you do your mother proud.”
With another laugh, Pippa accepts the compliment. “That I do not revel in intrigue may make me a poor excuse for a warrior. I was not raised in a cave.”
Although she regrets the truth of it, Lilian says, “‘You know I must inform Monsignor that you have discovered his agent, do you not? Lt. Riordan may be withdrawn.”
“Not raised in a cave,” Pippa replies with arched brows. “Of course you must. As well as the identities of the other two. Do not be concerned. Riordan will not be withdrawn. He will be required to keep an eye on the others.”
»◊«
Demon shit. Horatio’s ire becomes anger when he meets Lilian’s startled eyes. The woman is pale to the lips. Whatever Benmyn was saying was worse than Horatio suspected. He was glad to see the guard interfere. It would have been awkward to go himself, but he could not allow that conversation to continue. Keeping an eye on Benmyn as Lilian disappears into the next chamber, Horatio signals for his son.
Breaking off his conversation, William hurries over. “What is amiss?”
“Why is Benmyn here? I thought he was to remain on Socraide Prime.”
William’s mouth twists with distaste. “Monsignor Sarah decided her cartouche needed stronger representation at the inscription trial and the governor’s gala.”
Monsignor Sarah Guedez, preeminence of the Bright Fire cartouche and a Matahorn governor, elevated Benmyn from master associate to seigneur a year gone. Neither William not Horatio care for the man, but it is a Bright Fire matter and beyond their control.
“He approached Lucius’ apprentice.”
“He dared?” William’s eyes narrow in an echo of his sire’s anger. The political ramifications for relations within Bright Star and between Matahorn and Serengeti are staggering. William and Horatio spent extended periods evaluating how Matahorn’s control of the goad from Lilian’s protocol review might serve their advantage. After the prior year’s Fortuna summit, they determined that any potential advantage was not worth the risk that the intrigue could result in an insult to Blooded Dagger and Serengeti that could endanger Matahorn’s Bright Star ambitions. After Fenrir kidnapped her and was exposed as a criminal, risk became certainty. Any encounter between Benmyn and Lilian would lead to naught but disaster.
“I already owe Lucius an honor debt in the matter of Fenrir. If that fool created an insult debt, I will have his signet,” Horatio says. “Remove him from the reception and discover what he has done. See to it that he is permitted nowhere near Lucius’ apprentice in the future.”
»◊«
Relaxing into the comfort of the transport, Lucius pulls Lilian across his lap, relishing her familiar weight and citrusy scent. It has been an exceptional day. After five years, he is within seasons of achieving his greatest ambition and opening the Thirteenth System. The challenges have been exceptional, the risks unprecedented, and that he has succeeded owes much to the extraordinary woman in in his arms. The transit back to the Serenity Guesthouse on the opposite side of the bay will require a half period. He can indulge his fascination with her dress. Reaching for one of the side slits, he examines the design, sliding a finger along the gauze, evaluating the sensation of gliding over the silky flesh of her thigh. “Did you discover aught of moment?’
The pliant form turns to stone. Abandoning his interest in her skirt, Lucius raises his eyes to find her face closed into the shuttered, stoic expression he detests.
“Is the name Benmyn Empire known to milord?”
Socraide’s sword! What new trial is this is? Keeping his voice even, he replies, “A Matahorn master associate. The goad from your protocol review.”
Lilian nods, dropping her eyes. “Yes, milord, although it is now Seigneur Benmyn. The seigneur attended the reception.”
Hoping it is not what he thinks, he says, “He approached you.”
Lilian nods, fingering her conservator’s seal.
Master anger. “To what purpose?”
Lilian’s hand locks on the seal. “The seigneur threatened to challenge the trial proof.”
Master fear. Horatio goes too far. “His words. Exactly.”
Mastery of mind. It was an ugly encounter. Lilian’s eyes remain fixed on her knees, an edge of despair in her voice as she recounts Benmyn’s words and actions. The man knew how to evoke horrific memories and intended to terrorize her. Self-master. Matahorn will pay.
Holding her close, Lucius pulls the seal free of her clutching hand. As he feared, it has left a mark. He rubs her palm to ease the sting. “Horatio owes me an honor debt from the Fenrir affair. I believe I will have Benmyn’s signet.”
Lilian trembles, her fingers closing about his. “Does milord wish Seigneur Benmyn’s signet, it may be acquired without invoking the honor debt.”
Self-master. She would not make such a claim without cause. “You have been intriguing against the man.” He knows she has Adelaide’s flair for vengeance and it has served him well. Yet, why this one man? He was goad, but it was his assigned duty. “Do you resent his duty toward you?’
Her head jerks up, the gray eyes holding naught but sincerity. “No, milord. The seigneur executed his duty; that the seigneur enjoyed it is not cause for vengeance.”
Is it not? Lucius is not so certain, but she often confounds him. “I would know all of it.” It is hard to imagine, and there was no reference to it in the transcripts, but it is not a word she would have mistaken. “Did you cower?”
A spark enters the gray eyes as she nods. “I did. And displayed an appalling degree of fear for one raised a warrior. Dean Joseph believed that resistance to Trial by Ordeal would be
lessened if I appeared too meager to survive the experience.”
“A clever strategy. It worked well.”
The sparkle fades and Lilian’s eyes drop away. “It worked too well. My appearance of weakness led to the attempt to take Katleen’s house. It was expected I would yield it to save myself.”
Katleen’s house. He should have wondered about it before this. Dean Joseph would not have been so careless as to leave Katleen’s house at risk of forfeit. Stroking her hip, he encourages Lilian to continue.
Fixing her eyes on the far side of the transport, she surrenders the information. By the terms of the Trial by Ordeal, Lilian may receive no special aid or comfort, and the protocol review board demanded the severest interpretation of those terms. Dean Joseph could not install her in guest quarters to await her sire’s Final Draught. Any contact between them beyond what was required by Dean Joseph’s agency in establishing an apprentice contract could and would be interpreted as a violation. To protect her, the dean exited planet as soon as the sentencing agreement was sealed, leaving Lilian to reside in the incarceration hall until her mother and sister arrived from Sinead’s World.
The morning after Dean Joseph’s departure, Lilian was escorted to the protocol review chamber. There were no witnesses as Lilian stood in the round indentation while Benmyn informed her that there was an outstanding penalty to be met. Did Lilian not provide the funds, the sentencing agreement would be voided, and she would consume the Final Draught with her foul sire. The goad could no longer touch her. He could not tear her hair, use it to yank her around, pinch or slap her, or spit on her. He crowded close as he spoke. She could count the coarse pores of his skin and broken veins on his cheeks.
She knew it was a farce. The sentencing agreement was sealed. Under the governing protocols, no further penalties could be extracted unless she failed her trial proof. Given her sire’s crimes, her disgrace, and the fact that her only advocate was exit planet, the illegality of the proceeding was meaningless. By the time Dean Joseph was able to return and challenge the penalty, she would be dead. It was the governor’s aide who explained they would take Katleen’s house in lieu of the fine.
The level of greed the demand represented exceeded rapaciousness. Although Lilian’s wealth was but a tenth of what was taken from Gariten, it was twelve times the worth of Katleen’s house. A tenth was remitted to Dean Joseph as his agent’s fee. Another twenty percent went in fines to the Governing Council. The rest was divided among the five judges, each of whom was bound to remit twenty-five percent to their sponsor, be it a shrine, the governor, or a cartel. It was more than sufficient atonement of Guilt by Blood without Katleen’s house, but greed was not the whole of their intent.
The judges were sworn to abide by the governing protocols. They could not compel her death, but they would see her dead if they could. They were confident she would not survive two seasons of her Trial by Ordeal. That left but Katleen with the taint of Gariten’s genetics. Katleen was a minor and could not be executed. Reducing an eleven-year-old girl to the level of shrine beggar was almost a guarantee she would not survive to reproduce.
“Only the militia major spoke against it, and he was overruled by the governor’s aide.” Lilian’s fingers reach for the conservator’s seal. “I agreed to provide the funds within two sevendays of Gariten’s demise or forfeit Katleen’s house.”
Lucius gathers her hands in one of his. “You sold everything it contained to pay the bribe. Why did you not challenge it when you were safe? Agreements made under duress are not binding.”
Lilian’s shoulders slump. “I dared not contact Dean Joseph until he contacted me, lest they use it against us. He was not due to arrive in Crevasse City until after the funds were due and I dared not default. They could have indicted the default as trial failure, sent me to the draught, and taken the house.”
Her desire for vengeance explained, he asks, “Your intrigue, Lilian? Designed as insurance against a trial proof challenge or retribution for the attack on Katleen and Lady Helena?”
Lilian’s head lifts and she turns to him, her eyes sharp with purpose. “Both, milord. It seemed probable that those venal enough to reduce a minor of eleven and a madwoman to the level of shrine beggars were in the habit of such practices.”
“Were they?”
“Seigneur Benmyn was and is. Only two-thirds of what was due found its way into Matahorn coffers. That was his second protocol review; there has been one since. In all cases, not all the penalties collected were presented to Matahorn. There are numerous other financial misdemeanors and two incidents of fraud. Of the fraud, one was committed against a cartouche retainer and one against the cartel.”
“Horatio will be glad to yield Benmyn’s signet in return for that intelligence. What of the others?” He has no concerns that Lilian’s trial proof will be denied. The trial has occurred on Metricelli Prime. The acceptance or denial belongs to him, Gilead, and the governor. It will be less expensive if there are no challenges to eradicate.
“Jonathan’s Keeper had a misguided way with shrine contracts.” A smile ghosts across her lips. “Lord Prelate Gilead was not pleased to discover it. The keeper now serves in a shrine in the grain oceans of the Ninth System.”
Brilliant. Lucius drops a kiss on the last trace of smile. “Continue.”
Lilian’s eyes darken. “I have found naught indictable on the other two.”
Disappointment? More likely fear of a trial challenge. In this, he can ease her concern. “You need not fear the other two. The Geneva Group associate has a son with Serengeti’s Socraide Prime operations. He is assigned to Natalia Custennin and gives her no end of difficulty.”
The gray eyes widen, and her lips tighten. Surprise? Amusement? Both perhaps.
“As for the governor’s aide, she will not wish her lackluster daughter to lose her place at Mulan’s Temple. I doubt you need fear the militia major if he protested.”
“The militia major deserves better than to be under the instruction of one such as that aide.” The gray eyes have regained their sparkle and that elusive smile flickers at the corners of Lilian’s mouth. “Captain Signy was delighted to present the credentials of such a capable officer to the Third System’s governor. When we exited planet, I believe the rank of colonel was under discussion.”
They are almost to the guesthouse. Lucius could wait, but it is not his will. With a laugh, he pulls Lilian tightly to him and captures her mouth.
»◊«
Leaning back into the hard wall of milord’s chest, Lilian gazes up at Fortuna’s moons. Milord’s fingers tease along her collarbone and dip lower, exploring the line of golden gauze. As distasteful as the encounter with Benmyn was, the outcome is all she could hope. Her evidence will cost the revolting man his place. That Monsignor Horatio must once again accept evidence of corruption within his house from milord will ensure that the goad receives the harshest of penalties. It may well include banishment to the supply depots of the Eleventh System, where Benmyn may labor next to Damien.
“What pleases you?” Milord’s fingers tighten in the gauze. With a sharp sound, the sheer fabric loosens and falls away, the glittering panel over her breasts pulling free.
In the windows, milord’s ghostly reflection grasps the edge of her gaping bodice and pulls it to her waist and free of the skirt. Reflected dark eyes meet hers. Milord is waiting.
“I was wondering if Damien and Seigneur Benmyn will find each other good company.”
Milord chuckles, his attention returning to the frock. The damaged silk flutters to the floor. His head lowers to nibble her neck and shoulders while his hands cup and caress her breasts. The image in the windows is mesmerizing. Erotic. Nude but for her skirt, her torso blends into the cream of milord’s tunic, black hair teasing where his head is buried in the curve of her neck, hands dark and mysterious as they fondle her breasts. Her breasts swell and ache, her sex pulses. Unable to resist, she trails her fingers over milord’s hands and wrists, fascinated by the p
lay of light and shadow, the sight as stimulating as milord’s touch.
“Discard the skirt.”
The pale figure in the window reaches for the hidden side fastening. It will not yield. Using both hands, she releases the catch and wriggles free, dropping it to the floor and revealing the lace bands that secure the gossamer leg coverings and the matching gold lace that covers her aching sex.
Milord’s reflected gaze travels her length, his hands skimming from breast to waist, awakening her senses. One dark hand cups the apex of her thighs, pulling her tight to his pelvis and the hard ridge of his sex. The other drops to tease along her thighs, toying with the boundary between gossamer and thigh. Long fingers strum her sex through the lace, setting off spasms of desire and soaking the delicate covering.
Milord’s arm pins her close, his other hand delving beneath the lace, working and teasing her slick and swollen nether lips, probing and taunting her swollen jewel. Slipping both his hands to her waist, he pushes the fabric free of her hips to pool at her feet. “On the bed. On your hands and knees.”
Clad in naught but the warbelt and leg coverings, Lilian mounts the bed, the silk encasing her legs sliding against the coverlet in a sensuous caress. At the rustle of fabric, she turns to look over her shoulder. Milord’s chest is bared, his eyes heavy with passion. The belt snakes free and is tossed aside. His boots are mounded next to her damaged frock. Milord discards trousers and briefs in one movement to stand nude and erect, his sex rigid.
The mattress shifts as he joins her on the bed. Breath catching and her center clenching, Lilian returns her regard to the far wall. Hard, strong hands caress her buttocks as warm breath and then lips caress her neck and spine. Seeking fingers probe between her thighs. “Open your legs.”
Sinking to her forearms, she raises her hips and spreads her knees, exposing her eager flesh in shameless invitation. It is an invitation milord accepts, caressing and teasing her opening and her jewel. Then the motion changes, fingers stroking inside her while milord’s thumb presses and rolls the inflamed center of her desire. Writhing against the provoking hand, Lilian moans, then entreats, “Please, milord, please.”