Fugitives of Fate

by Morganfield, T. L.

  ¤

  Cuauhtemoc was out of breath by the time he reached the Cihuacoatl's palace. Gods please don't let me be too late! He hurried into the courtyard with his guards jogging to keep up with him. He paused only to ask the main door guards where Malinali was.

  "She was in the main gardens, meeting with Lord Ohtli and Lady Izel, but they left not too long ago, My Lord," they informed him.

  His heart lurchedI'm too late. As he approached the gardens, he considered leaving—perhaps it was better she never knew why he'd come today—but when he reached the doorway and saw her slumped in the grass, her back to him, he had to make certain she was all right. Her guards nodded to him as he passed between them, and his own guards lingered back with them as he walked to her.

  She must have heard him coming, for when he reached her, she turned to look at him with glossy, anguished eyes. Without a word she lumbered to her feet then hugged him, burying her face in his chest. He hugged her back tightly. "I'm sorry, my love, I...I...." He squeezed his eyes to hold back the sting of oncoming tears. "You did what was best for yourself."

  "I turned him down."

  He pulled her tighter, thinking her tears had garbled her words. "You're not betrothed to Lord Ohtli?" His heart pounded painfully in his chest.

  She shook her head then looked up at him. "I'd rather be alone forever than be without you, Cuauhtemoc."

  He lifted her off the ground and into a desperate kiss. She balled her fists in his xicolli, holding on too as he stumbled a few steps, trying to regain his balance as a dizzy joy fell over him. But he lost the battle and finally let them fall into the grass, landing on his back so he didn't crush her. She kissed him just as passionately, taking his cheeks between her hands, the smell of her perfume setting his senses on fire.

  "I want you," she panted once they broke free for air. "I don't care what anyone thinks; being Cihuacoatl means nothing if I must put aside my love for you because of it." She smiled through tears as he stroked her cheek with a trembling hand. "I want to see you when I look into my children's faces."

  He kissed her softly, to regain control of the joy swelling fast inside him. "Marry me, Malinali. Tie your dress to my cape."

  "But Lady Xocotzin—"

  "Ixtlil freed me of that obligation."

  A shadow of concern darkened her delicate face. "You can't break a promise, not even for me."

  "It was a gift, so his best friend can be with the woman he loves."

  "Then we owe him an unpayable debt?"

  "I believe we can pay it back by not squandering it. Will you be my wife?"

  Tears welled in her eyes again. "Forever."

  While they kissed, slow and sultry this time, he tied the corner of his cloak to the hem of her dress in a clumsy knot. It took several minutes to accomplish, but once he gave it a final tug, they both looked down at it. "We'll have to do it again, in front of the gods and the Council, to make it official, but as far as I'm concerned, from this day forward, I'm your husband. My heart is yours and no one else's."

  A smile quirked at Malinali's mouth. "No one else's?"

  He nodded. "I need no one else."

  She kissed him deeply then whispered, "Do you think the gods will curse us if we don't wait the requisite four days to consummate our new marriage?" She dragged her fingers down his chest, over his abdomen, down to his loincloth, sending chills through him.

  "Let them curse us," he whispered in a hoarse voice. He grew hard as she played her fingernails over the folds of his loincloth then pulled the knot apart with devastating slowness. He watched—his breath quickening and his body trembling—as she exposed him to the sun's heat, turning her gaze lovingly down on him. He drew in a sharp breath when she touched him, her soft fingertips sending his blood pulsing in his ears.

  But when she leaned down over him, he thought his heart might stop. Such things were the favorite trick of the army courtesans, but the one time he'd suggested it to his wife, she'd been horrified. "One doesn't beg such...things from a proper noblewoman," Cuicatl had spat at him, so he'd resolved to never ask it of Malinali either. Obviously she feels differently.

  And yet the tentative manner in which she touched him now made him doubt. Their intimate pasts were very different—and much of hers painful—and he strove to be mindful of that, so even as his body rebelled, he said, "You don't have to do that." When she glanced back up at him, he hitched himself up on his elbows. "I mean...if you'd rather not...I don't expect it of you."

  "You don't want me to?"

  "Of course I do, but...I...you needn't do anything you're not comfortable with, just for my sake."

  "But I do want to."

  He caressed her cheek. "You're certain?"

  She smiled. "I trust you."

  The way she said it with such assuredness brought the joy swelling up inside him. Despite all they'd been through together, there had still always been something standing between them, something he couldn't quite name, but now, that feeling vanished. He kissed her again, then watched her work her way back down his body.

  Her soft lips and warm tongue on him—around him—brought a gasp to his throat, and her firm strokes knotted up the pleasure tight inside him. Her new-found eagerness made him flush with pride, but when watching threatened to overwhelm him, he closed his eyes and laid back. Her every movement, every kiss pushed him further until he feared he couldn't take it anymore. He sat up to take her into his arms. "Your turn, my love."

  But she pushed him back down into the grass. "I'm not done with you yet." She pressed her still-dressed body against his as she stretched out atop him, pinning his arms at his sides.

  "But I desperately want to pleasure you."

  She silenced him with a kiss, dancing her tongue with his. She moved to a kneeling position over him, watching him with intense eyes as she slowly stripped her dress off. She set it aside, taking care to ensure the knot between it and his cape remained intact. "But you are giving me pleasure, my love," she whispered as she unbound her undergarment then tossed it aside. She took his hands in hers then guided them to her, laying his palms flat against her stomach, covering them with her long fingers. Her skin was so hot under his touch. "Let the gods bless us."

  Her words brought forth an ache deep inside him. He slid his hands slowly up her body, her own hands over his, flexing her fingers like a jaguar's claws when he gripped her ample breasts. When she tipped her head back to let out a ragged, pleading breath of delight, he squeezed her harder, his desire swelling with renewed fervor. He raised his hips, thrusting against her warm center, eager to become one with her again.

  She didn't give in to his silent pleas right away. She took her time, slowly tracing out the contours of her body with her hands, her face flush with pride at displaying herself for him. He marveled at how different she was from that woman who sat deflecting his questions in his study so long ago now, but once she guided him into her and by turns brought him to the precipice of pleasure's abyss but then denied him that leap over the edge, the more he realized she was every bit that same woman, skillfully controlling situations without one even realizing it. It's her special skill, and this time, being led is so deliciously wonderful.

  Malinali moved atop him with increasing urgency, the games of control and withholding having run their course at last. She gazed down at him, begging him to take her to those heights only he'd ever shown her. He obliged her, spreading his fingers across her abdomen and teasing her with his thumb.

  But as she peaked, her body tightening around him, he couldn't take it any longer. He rolled her over into the grass, shielding her sweat-laden body from the sun with his own as he ground hard atop her, that tight knot of longing and desperation finally snapping apart like a dam under the onslaught of a flooded river.

  When it was over, he rolled away, to avoid crushing her when his fatigued muscles gave out, but pulled her to him when she snuggled into the crook of his arm.

  They lay in the grass, listening to the drowse of t
he bees among the flowers. Cuauhtemoc dozed off until the distant ringing of bells brought him back.

  Malinali raised her head. "Weren't we supposed to be at the Council meeting by the day's third bell?"

  He nodded. "We're going to be late, but it's all right. They can't start without us."

  She sat up and picked up her headdress. Several of the white heron feathers were broken. She tried to straighten them but they were beyond repair. "No, they can't, but then we'll have to explain our tardiness."

  He sat up and stroked her cheek with one finger, spurring her to look at him. "It's as good a time as any to announce our betrothal."

  Chapter Nineteen

  "She’s too old," Cuauhtemoc’s mother complained as she walked with him to the great hall for the wedding ceremony. She'd looked as if the vein in her forehead might rupture when she learned Ixtlil called off the betrothal, but she kept an icy politeness when she met Malinali. Later she tried her usual tactic of ranting and raving, appealing to Cuauhtemoc's emotional and social obligations to her, and since that failed to change his mind, she now resorted to appealing to his logic. "You're being a fool, rushing into a marriage two days after announcing it to the Council."

  "I consulted the soothsayers and today is a good day for such things," he told her, ever patient.

  "But how can you know anything at all about her after so little time? How do you even know she can still have children?"

  "She’s not that old, Mother. She's five years younger than me."

  "It doesn’t matter how old you are; a man can be a hundred and still sire heirs, but women don’t have that luxury. The childbearing season is short-lived. She could be barren for all you know."

  "She's not."

  "You can't know that."

  "She's already had one child."

  That vein on his mother's forehead began pulsing again. "By whom?"

  "It's of no consequence. I've accepted her past, blemishes and all, and she accepts mine. I'm more interested in our future together."

  His mother sniffed. "Even if she can still have children, she has perhaps ten years left to do so? Xocotzin is young, and her hips are good. She'll give you many children."

  "Or she could die of complications with her first child. You don't know; no one but the gods know, and they brought Malintzin to me. You've always told me to listen to the gods, and that's what I'm doing."

  "But she's a slave, Cuauhtemoc!" she hissed between clenched teeth. "How can you forget what happened with that slave who wormed her way into your father's bed—"

  He took his mother's hand in between his, calming the slight palsy in it. "Mother, you picked my first wife—and you did a wonderful job finding me someone not only politically important, but someone I could love. But I'm not a boy anymore. You trust me with the empire, so trust me with my own heart. Please."

  She sighed, resigned. "Very well. But be wise and get her with child as soon and as often as you can, and pray to the gods you don’t lose her as you did the first two."

  "I'll take that as your blessing." He kissed her cheek.

  Most of the city's nobles already crowded the great hall, and everyone bowed to the ground when Cuauhtemoc entered. He strode between the lines of guards keeping a center aisle clear for him. His royal icpalli had been removed from the dais, replaced by the long, quetzal-feathered mat used in royal marriage ceremonies. The high priest of the Feathered Serpent—dressed in white robes rather than the black ones worn by the other orders—stood waiting behind the mat, and he too bowed when Cuauhtemoc approached. "Thank you for doing this on such short notice," Cuauhtemoc told him.

  "It is always an honor to serve you, Revered Speaker."

  A few moments later, a hush settled over the room, and Cuauhtemoc looked up from nervously straightening his cloak to see Malinali entering the great hall.

  She sat atop a litter carried by her female servants, wearing a rather plain white dress. But paired with her heron-feathered headdress, she shone like the sun. She wore an expression of uncertainty, but when Cuauhtemoc helped her down from the litter, and whispered, "You're stunning today," her face flushed and she gave him a coy smile. He led her to the mat where they knelt before the high priest of the Feathered Serpent.

  Royal weddings often involved hours of speeches by noblemen, priests, and kings talking about the importance of the sacred marriage vow and both parties' role in maintaining the sanctity of it. Additionally, young brides had to endure the ritual chastisements of the older women, lecturing them on how to be good, obedient wives; Malinali staunchly refused to sit listening to such things, but she compromised by participating in the traditional bride procession through the city, meant to show her off as the new queen.

  With the wedding taking place on such short notice, Ixtlil delivered the only speech, starting with a poem written by his grandfather, extolling the virtues of friendship and loyalty. He finished with a heartfelt retelling of the story of Iztaccihuitl, daughter of an emperor, who died of grief when her father tricked her into believing the man she loved had died in battle. "And when her love Popocatepetl returned to find her dead, he too died of grief, and their bodies became the mountains surrounding the valley, and to this very day, the mountain we call Popocatepetl still spews fire and rages for the tragic loss of his love."

  Cuauhtemoc smiled as his friend bowed and stepped away, back to his spot in the crowd. An excellent choice of story, Ixtlil, he thought.

  The actual binding took only a moment. The high priest said a few words about fidelity and obligation—to both each other and the gods—then he tied the edge of Cuauhtemoc's cape to Malinali's dress, much the way Cuauhtemoc had done in the garden. The crowd greeted this with cheers and hoots, and Cuauhtemoc celebrated by giving Malinali a passionate kiss. When their lips lingered, the high priest cleared his throat and reminded them, "The gods ask that you observe four days of cleansing prayer before consummating your new marriage."

  Cuauhtemoc chuckled and sighed. "Of course."

  The marriage feast began immediately after the tying ceremony. An army of servants carried plates of food and jugs of drink filled with everything from water to octli out of the kitchens in waves. Cuauhtemoc and Malinali ate only plain tamales—the traditional first meal brides and grooms shared. The court musicians played flutes and drums while everyone ate and laughed and talked. When it came time for the bride and groom to retire to their quarters to begin the traditional wedding prayers, the noble families lined up to congratulate them on their nuptials. The guards had done an admirable job of keeping Acxotecatl away from them since the Tlaxcalans arrived, but it would be a slight against their new allies to deny him the privilege of wishing them well. When the time came to speak with him though, Cuauhtemoc resolved to make it quick and do all the speaking himself.

  To his surprise, Acxotecatl wasn't in the receiving line, and had disappeared from the feast hall. Malinali looked relieved when they made it to their guards at the doorway and Cuauhtemoc gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  "I thought we'd take our prayers in the Cihuacoatl's palace, so we'll have solitude," Cuauhtemoc told her as they walked down the hall. And while Acxotecatl might not have bothered Malinali yet, with the Tlaxcalan delegation staying in the royal palace, there was less chance of him seeking them out there.

  But when they reached the courtyard, a voice called out to them from inside the palace. Cuauhtemoc's flesh prickled but he made himself stop and turn around.

  Acxotecatl came down the stone stairs, followed by his own guards, a jovial expression on his face. "Forgive my missing the receiving line, Revered Speaker, but I'm afraid my bladder is the demanding sort."

  Malinali put on her diplomatic smile, and Cuauhtemoc matched it as he accepted the lord's polite bow.

  "Congratulations on your marriage. I'm sorry we've been unable to speak with each other yet this trip, but I've been working with Lord Ohtli on settling into his new position."

  "We have all been unexpectedly busy," Cuauhtemoc
acknowledged, trying hard to keep his voice from sounding overly stony. "I'm pleased you and Lord Xicotencatl were able to stay for the wedding."

  "I wouldn't miss it for anything, My Lord. I'm leaving before daybreak though, so I'm glad we finally had a chance to talk." Acxotecatl then turned to Malinali. "I'm especially glad I'm finally able to return this to you, My Lady." He held up a little leather bag. "I tried all week to do so, but I was never able to get an audience with you. You left it under the mats in your room back in Tlaxcala, and I'm certain you feel terribly lost without it."

  Malinali stared at it, a startled look on her face.

  Cuauhtemoc grabbed the bag, his temper flaring. What game was this dog playing at? "What makes you think it’s hers?"

  "Her name symbol is on it."

  Cuauhtemoc looked at it, confirming the pictogram for grass sewn onto the side in black thread. When he glanced at Malinali, she didn’t look at him. "This is yours?"

  After a hesitation, she answered, "It is." She choked on the words.

  He opened it to find a small amount of gray powder inside. He rubbed it between his fingers. "What is this?"

  Malinali opened her mouth to speak but stopped.

  After she struggled a moment, Acxotecatl offered, "I wondered as much myself, so I asked one of our priests to look at it. He identified it as a love potion, the kind typically brewed by witches. They mix it in a beverage then trick their victim into drinking it."

  Cuauhtemoc nearly laughed at the absurd accusation, but when he looked at Malinali, she was panic-stricken, and when she met his gaze, the guilt shone plain in her eyes. His jaw tightened, sickening heat rising inside him. "Is that what this is?" He barely kept the incredulity from his voice.

  She swallowed hard. "It is."

  At least she didn’t lie about it. But it gave him no comfort. Dear gods, how long has she been feeding me this? And why? To make me love her? To manipulate her way into my bed? To manipulate her way into power? How could I be so foolish as to fall for such a ruse? A storm of anger and pain swelled in his chest. He should have known better; this was exactly the kind of woman his mother had warned him about—the woman the gods had shown him in the Black Lake—but he didn't listen. "How could you do this?" His voice shook with the same rage as it had that day she'd accused him of murdering Tecuichpo.